.0* • •"•♦ *b -*$>

^ ^

SEEMONS

BY

REV. WILLIAM MORLEY PUNSHON

TO ^HICH IS PEEFIXED

A PLEA EOR CLASS-MEETINGS,

AND

AN INTRODUCTION BY REY. WILLIAM H. MILBURN.

NEW YOEK:
DERBY & JACKSON, 498 BROADWAY.

$_^~ ** C

Ebtered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1860, by

DERBY & JACKSON,

In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States, for the Southern District of
New York.

W. H. Tinson, Stereotyper. Geo. Russell & Co., Printers.

CONTENTS.

♦

PAGE

INTRODUCTION by Rev. W. H. Milburn, v

PRELIMINARY PLEA FOR CLASS-MEETINGS, 21

I.— MEMORIES OF THE WAT, 43

II.— THE BELIEVER'S SUFFICIENCY, . . . . 67

III.— THE MISSION OF THE PULPIT, 93

IV.— SOLICITUDE FOR THE ARK OF GOD, 119

V.— THE INCARNATION OF CHRIST, 139

VI.— ZEAL IN THE CAUSE OF CHRIST, 162

VII.— THE CHRISTIAN'S INHERITANCE, 183

VIII.— THE HEAVENLY CONQUEROR, 205

IX.— THE CHRISTIAN'S DEATH, LIFE, PROSPECTS AND

DUTY, 227

X.— THE APOSTLE'S GROUND OF TRUST, 249

XI.— THE EFFECTS OF PIETY ON A NATION, 276

XII.— THE PROPHET OF HOREB— HIS LIFE AND ITS

LESSONS, 297

INTEODUCTION

On a bright sunshiny morning (and such were strangely-
frequent in London in the summer of 1857) I drove from my
lodgings, Little Ryder street, St. James', two or three miles
in a southwesterly direction to Brixton Hill Wesleyan Chapel.
The edifice was that day to be dedicated to the worship of
Almighty God, and the preacher on the occasion was the
Rev. William Moelev Punshon. I had heard much of
him, and was naturally desirous to listen to one who was
called the most eloquent of living Wesleyan preachers.

As I reached the chapel in advance of the time for com-
mencing the service, I entered the vestry, where I was
introduced, among others, to the preacher I had come to
hear. He seemed a man about five feet ten inches in height,
rather inclined to corpulency, for one of his age (not then,
I should say, above thirty-four), with by no means a strik-
ing or expressive face when in repose, and possessed of a
voice rather husky and not at all prepossessing.

His dress was that of all Wesleyan ministers in England,
closely approaching the style of the clergy of the estab-
lished church — the invariable white neck-tie surmounting
the uniform of black. The appointed hour arrived, and
we entered the chapel.

Vii

Till INTRODUCTION.

The prayers of the church of England — excepting the
Litany — were read by the superintendent of the circuit
from a desk on one side of the chancel. Mr. Punshon then
mounted a desk on the other side of the chancel, gave out
a hymn, and offered a brief extemporaneous prayer.

His reading was not at all impressive, and I began to
wonder whether, indeed, he could be an orator. In truth,
I had been so often disappointed that I had almost come to
regard a reputation for eloquence as primd facie evidence
against a man's possessing it, and I was tempted to think
in this case, that I was once more befooled. The preacher
took his text and proceeded with the discourse. A
brief exegetical introduction was followed by the announce-
ment of the points he meant to treat. The arrangement
of the sermon was textual, methodical and Wesleyan.
The English take far less latitude in such matters than
we. The Wesleyans are Wesleyans indeed, imbued with
the spirit and almost adhering to the letter of our Great
Founder. Well-nigh every sermon has its three heads, and
each head its three subdivisions, and at the conclusion of the
third " thirdly," comes a close, searching, and practical appli-
cation. This style seems to be considered almost indispens-
able to orthodoxy, and forms a striking contrast to the large,
often latitudinarian, and frequently helter skelter freedom of
style allowed in this country, where all manner of truth,
and even untruth, is preached from any text that may be
selected, under the plea that the style is " topical."

The form of the English pulpit obliges the preacher to ad-
here to a pulpit manner. It is modelled upon the shape of
the little wooden boxes we see in Roman Catholic churches
in this country, affording room for one person only — access

INTKODUCTION. IX

to it being gained by a long flight of winding steps, and
when you have toiled to the dizzy height, you find yourself
overlooking the galleries, and perched, perhaps twenty
feet above the floor. Not a little self-control must be
practised by the preacher, and he is compelled, whether
he will or not, to pay a good deal of attention to the
laws of gravitation, and other decorous regulations, or
the stern penalty of a tumble may be enforced upon him.

The platform of this country (for our pulpits are nothing
more), in its slight elevation above the floor, its nearness to
the people, its susceptibility to impression from the audi-
ence, and the vantage-ground it affords the preacher for
imbuing the hearers with his own sympathies, is a great
advance upon the English desk, and a near approach to the
ambo of the early Church. The difference, as to the stand-
ing-ground of the preachers of the two countries, is signi-
ficant— almost symbolic — of the difference of their styles.

The English seem to fancy, that our method, in its
reach after the people, its disloyalty to technical rule,
its range of illustration, and its disuse of a strict theo-
logical phraseology, as well as in its free adoption of the
language of common life, borders upon a reprehensible
looseness.

To the American, on the other hand, the close adherence
to models, the almost single variation between a dogmatic
and hortatory style, and the employment of a limited range
of words, not so much Scriptural as conventional, make the
English pulpit appear formal. No doubt each could learn
something of advantage from the other ; and it seemed to
me, that Mr. Punshon occupied the enviable position of
standing midway between the two, with many of the

1*

X INTRODUCTION.

advantages of both. Pie is systematic, yet untrammelled,
and while technical in his arrangement, he is still free and
varied in illustration. Confining himself to the legiti-
mate themes of the pulpit, he at the same time does not
despise the use of general literature. His aim seems to be
to make men Christians — either to convert them from sin, or
to establish them in holiness, not to teach them political
economy, to educate them in sesthetics, to afford them
brilliant disquisitions in metaphysical science, or to enforce
on them the flattering assurance, that the private soul (that
is, the essential me) is higher and grander than society,
state, church, law, or Scripture.

The staple of his discourses, when I heard him, concerned
man's spiritual and eternal welfare, and did not consist in
flowers, stars, breezes or clouds. I should say that he is
better read in the writings of St. Paul and St. John, than
in those of the Gnostics, and that he holds the canon of
Scripture to be binding upon men, as a rule of faith and
practice.

As to politics, I have a suspicion (but I can only state it
as a suspicion, for I heard him say nothing on the subject),
that he prefers the English Revolution of 1688, to the
French Revolution of IV 8 9 ; and that he holds the powers
that be, are ordained of God, and not of the Devil ; and
therefore, if he taught anything on the subject, that he
would teach fealty to the constitution of the land in which
he lives, loyalty to the law, obedience to constituted
authority, as the duty of every good citizen, and not, that
insubordination and revolution are the crowning glories of
every regenerate soul. He is liberal, but his liberality is
not the equivalent of a contempt for orthodoxy ; and while

INTKODUCTIOS". XI

soroe of his countrymen may esteem him a progressive, I
hardly think his progressiveness consists in the recently
expounded doctrine of consistency, " be true to yourself to-
day— no matter what you said or did yesterday " — that is
to say, progress and the weathercock are one and the same
thing.

As Mr. Punshon advanced in his discourse on that pleas-
ant June morning, an occasional emphasis, applied with
judgment, betokened the practical speaker ; and the finish
of his sentences betrayed thorough preparation. As he
warmed to his work, quickening at the same time the gait
of his articulation, you found him gaming a strong hold
not only upon your attention, but upon your feelings ; and
you discovered that underneath the ample and rather loose
folds of adipose tissue with which his outer man is in-
vested, there are great stores of electrical power. He pos-
sesses that attribute indispensable to the orator, for which
we have no better name than magnetic. You are rooted
as by a spell, and surrender for a time the guidance of your
own thoughts. You have dropped the helm of your mind,
for a more skillful pilot has for the nonce taken your place
at the tiller.

Occasionally, you find the speaker's power over you
going to such lengths as to control your respiration, and
you breathe as he breathes, or as he gives you liberty. Who-
ever has known the delicious pain of a long, deep inhalation
■ — half a sigh of relief, half a welcome of the outer world
for the time forgotten — while listening to a speaker with
such rapt earnestness that every faculty of mind and sense
is concentrated in the one act of hearing, has felt what ora-
tory is. He has felt it, but can he describe it ? He might

Xll INTRODUCTION.

as well attempt to describe the thrill of love or rapture. I
doubt not, Mr. Punshon has showed many people what ora-
tory is, and made them to know the power of the orator ;
but I question much if he can teach them the power of his
art, or how to analyze and define it. It is not the power of
intellect, for I have seen and heard nothing from him
extraordinary as an intellectual production. Jt does not lie
in his taste — I am not sure it that would bear the test of
rigid criticism. It is not in the exhibition of stores of learn-
ing; his life has been too busy and practical, to enable
him to gain great stock of lore. It is not in the tricks of
a charlatan or the skill of an actor, for Mr. Punshon is
a sincere, devout and godly man. The charm of eloquence
retreats from the scrutiny of analysis as life retires from
the knife of the anatomist.

Before he has reached his major " thirdly," it is all over
with your independent consciousness ; you have yielded at
discretion and are the prisoner of his feeling. I am half in-
clined to believe that his own intellect is in the same plight,
and that memory acts as the warder of the brain, under
writ from the lordly soul. You have thrown criticism to
the dogs; your ear has exchanged itself /or an eye; the
bone and flesh of your forehead become delicately thin, as
the laminae of the cornea, and your brain seems endowed
with the power of the iris. You enjoy the ecstasy of vision,
and as the speaker stops you recover yourself enough
to feel that you have had an apocalyptic hour.

It seems to me, that the true measure of eloquence is
found, not so much in what is said as in what is sug-
gested ; not so much in the speaker's ability to convey to
you an idea, as to suffuse you with tbf» glow of a senti-

INTRODUCTION. X1U

ment ; not so much in the truth which is uttered, as in the
soul behind the truth, of which you become, for the time,
a sharer.

Mr. Punshon is much more of an orator than any man I
heard in England. In society he is simple, quiet, and ge-
nial ; his excellent good sense, and unaffected piety deliver
him from the snares of egotism, and the foolish weakness
of self-conceit. The chalice of praise turns many a great
man's head. The goblet which the English public has
offered to Mr. Punshon is huge and brimming ; but if the
contents have affected him, I did not discover it. I have
an idea, that he gives close and scrupulous heed to the
Apostle's admonition : " Let no man among you think
more highly of himself than he ought to think, but let him
think soberly, righteously, according as God has dealt to
every man the measure of faith."

Mr. Punshon is not as robust as he looks. He is not able
to study closely more than three hours at a time, and fre-
quently not more than that out of the twenty-four hours.
He prepares himself for the rostrum and pulpit with the
most scrupulous and exhaustive care. I should say that the
greater part of his sermons and lectures are committed to
memory, and delivered almost word for word, as they were
beforehand composed. His recollection is, therefore, at
once quick and tenacious. This plan, while it insures a
higher average of public performance and saves him from
many mortifying failures, at the same time shuts him out
from the ground of highest power.

" Mr. Pimshon was born (I now quote from reliable
authority) on the 29th of May, 1824, and successfully passed

XIV INTRODUCTION.

his examination for the Wesleyan ministry iu the year 1845.
He is a native of Doncaster, and is related, on the mother's
side, to the Morleys of that town, and since of Hull, Sir
Isaac Morley being his uncle. The only child of his parents,
he early displayed that wonderful memory for which he is
now so remarkably distinguished, and a propensity to store
it with facts which rarely interest mere boys. At the Don-
caster Grammar School, where he was educated, he is said
not to have discovered any surprising proficiency ; but
when still a child he was able to name nearly all the mem-
bers of the House of Commons, with the places for which
they sat, and the color of their politics.

" In early life he associated himself with the TVesleyan
Methodists, to which religious body his family belonged ;
but public affairs continued to be his ruling passion, and
the most surprising thing is, that his oratory, instead of
adorning the Methodist chapel, should not have been electri-
fying the chapel of St. Stephen. When his grandfather and
uncles removed to their establishment in Hull, he was placed
in their counting-house as junior clerk. He may have had
talents for business, but his inclination ran in another direc-
tion. During the three years that he was supposed to be
making out invoices and footing up ledgers, he was absorbed
in newspapers ; and the only account he cared to keep was
of the way in which the representatives of the people voted
in Parliament.

"In the debates nobody was better posted up. The
temptation of a daily newspaper was irresistible ; and while
the other clerks were deep in figures, he was culling figures
of speech from the orators of the Reformed Parliament —
watching the opening genius of Gladstone and Macaulay,
noting the maturer excellences of Peel and Palmerston, and
marking the finest flights of Shiel and O'Connell for his
own. The predilections of a young politician are seldom
of much importance ; but it so happened that young Pun-
shon's devotion to newspaper studies threw him into the

INTRODUCTION. XV

society of three young men who were earnest disciples of
the then newly born conservative opinions of Sir Robert
Peel and his adherents, and who held weekly meetings to
strengthen each other in their political faith. Once a month
one of them read a paper to the rest on a given subject ;
and though not more numerous than the celebrated knights
of the thimble in Tooley street, they called themselves " The
Menticultural Society." Two of the three survive, one
being a Wesleyan minister, and the other a clergyman of
the Established Church. In these weekly discourses and
monthly lectures, Mr. Punshon first distinguished himself as
possessed of those faculties which have made him eminent.
.Nor did he and his associates confine themselves to politics ;
for there is in existence a small volume of poetry, which
they published conjointly, and to which Mr. Punshon con-
tributed a piece entitled " The Orphan," of considerable
promise. About the same time he received, under the
ministry of the Rev. Samuel Romilly Hall, those impressions,
which resulted in his religious conversion. He then became
a Sunday-school teacher, and subsequently a local preacher.
He began to preach when he was eighteen years of age, and
exhibited much ability in the pulpit. His first attempt was
made at Ellerby, near Hull, and it was so successful as to
cause the sermon to live in the memory of at least some
who heard it, for they talked about it years afterward,
when Mr. Punshon visited the place. Under such circum-
stances there could be little doubt that his vocation was not
in the counting-house. But still he was kept in the com-
mercial circle, for from his relatives in Hull he was sent to
an uncle at Sunderland, to follow up the pursuit on which
lie had entered.

" But the books in which he delighted were neither ledger
nor day-books. His refined fancy and polished taste made
him an ardent admirer of the sublime and beautiful in lite-
rature, and at the same time his religious views led him to
employ his talents more than ever in the preaching of the

XVI INTRODUCTION.

Gospel ; and as certain rivers are lost in morasses, we lose
sight of his commercial career somewhere among the coal-
pits and iron- works of the North.

"During these events he had been bereaved of both pa-
rents ; and his grandfather, at length convinced that secular
business was not his vocation, made liberal arrangements
for his being trained for the ministry in the Wesleyan Insti-
tution, after a preliminary course of instruction at the house
of his uncle, the Rev. Benjamin Clough, at Deptford.

" There, however, he did not long remain ; it being found,
probably either that his genius was ill-suited to the res-
traints of an academical course, or that by self-culture, and
the help of his ministerial relative, he had attained a profi-
ciency which, with talents such as his, superseded a more
formal training. In the spring of 1845 a secession of the
parishioners from the Episcopal Church at Morden, Kent,
formed the nucleus of a Wesleyan church in that town, and
Mr. Punshon was invited to accept the pastoral charge of
the seceders. He complied with the request, and under his
ministry their numbers so greatly increased that a commo-
dious chapel was erected, and always well filled. It was
only for a short time, however, that he remained in this
place, for in the autumn of the same year the Conference,
under whose jurisdiction the Morden church seems to have
come, sent him to Whitehaven, where he resided two years,
and attracted large congregations. From thence, in 1847,
he was removed to the city of Carlisle, and two years after-
ward to Newcastle-on-Tyne. In both of these great centres
of population Mr. Punshon at once acquired a worthy name,
and became a mighty power for good, as well as at Sunder-
land, Gateshead, Shields, and the other towns of the dis-
trict, where he never had to preach or lecture to empty, or
only partially occupied pews and benches. While stationed
at Newcastle, being then in his twenty-fifth year, he mar-
ried a daughter of Mr. Vicars, of Gateshead, a very esti-
mable and highly accomplished lady, whose premature death

INTRODUCTION. XV11

in 1858 threw the darkest shadow across Mr. Punshon's
path, just when he had been appointed to a Metropolitan
circuit, where enlarged usefulness and new honors awaited
the gifted and ardent ambassador of Christ ; when most
unwelcome, the King of Terrors came and took the angel
of the pastor's home away to her sister spirits in glory.

"From Newcastle Mr. Punshon was removed in 1851 to
Sheffield, and thence to Leeds in 1855. It was while he was
at Sheffield that the fame of the preacher became noised
abroad ; and his services were soon in very frequent request
for special sermons, and also for lectures. It was, we be-
lieve, in the character of a lecturer that he appeared for the
first time in London, some six or seven years ago. We well
recollect the circumstance of his standing upon the platform
of Exeter Hall to discourse to the members of the Young
Men's Christian Association on the Prophet of Horeb. It
was not, strictly speaking, a lecture ; but an oration of ex-
treme brilliancy, suited in a high degree to captivate the
minds and find its way to the affections of a youthful audi-
ence ; and we never remember to have heard such rapturous
applause as that with which the thousands there assembled
greeted each glowing period. The whole of the oration
was delivered memoriter, and with extraordinary fluency ;
and such was the literal fidelity with which the speaker
had followed the manuscript, which was either in his pocket,
or at home, that when it shortly afterward appeared in
print, it would have been difficult for the most retentive
memory of the closest listener to have pointed out a sen-
tence that the lecturer had not uttered. By this single
performance Mr. Punshon established a Metropolitan repu-
tation outside his own denomination, which was increased
some two or three years afterward by his second lecture in
Exeter Hall, before the same Association, on the Immortal
Dreamer, John Bunyan ; and, more recently still, by that
most masterly oration on the Huguenot, which tens of thou-
sands in almost all parts of England have listened to with

XV111 INTRODUCTION.

unbounded delight. With one or two exceptions, perhaps,
there is no living minister in this country possessed of so
much popular power as Mr. Punshon. It is something
wonderful and grand to witness the spell of his genius upon
miscellaneous audiences of from three to five thousand peo-
ple in St. James' Hall, Exeter Hall, or the provincial
theatre, who have paid from a shilling to a half crown each
for admission. Most people will probably prefer Mr. Pun-
shon in character of a lecturer rather than that of a preacher.
In the pulpit he is unquestionably a master, and only second
to a very few preachers of the age ; but the platform fur-
nishes a better sphere for the display of his varied abilities.
In neither capacity does he give the people that w^hich has
cost him nothing ; for so accurate, and elaborate is almost
every sentence, and so appropriate and polished every illus-
trative simile, that it may be confidently said he writes out
and commits to memory every sermon and lecture that he
delivers. Whatever he undertakes he does well. Whether
it is in the preaching of an ordinary sermon in a Methodist
chapel, or in the delivery of an ostensibly popular discourse
in some great public building, or as taking part in the meet-
ing of some benevolent or religious association, or as a lec-
turer, occupying the rostrum before thousands of delighted
hearers, he is always earnest, always energetic, always
effective.

" In a two hours' discourse upon such a theme as that of
the history of France throughout the wThole period of the
Huguenot persecutions, ordinary and even very superior lec-
turers would have considered a manuscript indispensable.
But, not so Mr. Punshon. A few notes on some small cards
held in the hand were all the prompting he required, when
we heard him go through his magnificent address. He told
that old story of persecution with an inspiriug eloquence
that made men hold their breath while they listened, or
burst forth into a tempest of applause. Vigorous, inven-
tive, and impassioned, he adapted himself to the versatile

INTRODUCTION. XIX

tastes of his auditory, not by any apparent effort, but by
simplicity, and strength, by speaking right out the
thoughts that were in him. He roused every passion,
touched every emotion, and awakened every sympathy in
the hearts of his hearers."

With God's blessing Mr. Punshon has yet, according to
the English standard, full thirty of his best years before him.
May he have length of days and fullness of power, so that
he shall continue to grow in favor with God and man, is
the hearty wish of his friend,

W. H. MlLBTJEN.

Brooklyn, May 15th} 1860.

PRELIMINARY PLEA.

TABOE-, OR, THE CLASS-MEETING.

If any of you, dear friends, had been privileged to
witness the scenes which once hallowed the summit of
Tabor — if you had seen the Saviour baptized as the
King of Glory — if you had " feared as you entered
into the cloud" — if you had been a favored listener to
that heavenly converse — if you had been thrilled, as
Peter was, by the uplift! ngs of wondrous hope and un-
foldings of gracious purpose, as " they spake of his de-
cease which lie should accomplish at Jerusalem " — who
of you could have withheld the deep-felt expression of
gladness, " Lord, it is good to be here !" — who of you
could have restrained the desire to build, upon that
sacred spot, the " tabernacles" of remembrance and of
rest ?

Dear friends, there is yet an institution in whose ob-
servance the humblest Christian talks with his Master,
and with his Master's followers — that institution is the
" assembling of ourselves together" for the purposes of
church communion — there is yet a place upon earth

21

22 TABOR ; OK, THE CLASS-MEETING.

where some relics of that excellent glory linger, where
the experiences of that mount of blessing are not all
forgotten — that place is a pious and properly conducted
Class-Meeting. Many a time has the writer of this
brief address felt its salutary influence, to gladden the
soul in seasons of intensest trial, to encourage the fail-
ing spirit in heavenward progress, to brace and nerve
the mind for difficult duty ; and, with a grateful recol-
lection of these, its Tabor-pleasures, he commends its
advantages to you. "I believed, therefore have I
spoken."

"We do not claim for the Class-Meeting an essentially
divine origin, although it would be difficult to doubt
that an overruling Providence presided at its birth,
and has kept it in operation until now. The mind,
which devoutly remembers that with God there is
nothing trivial, will readily acknowledge that when
John Wesley, ministering merely to present necessities,
and with no foresight of the future, called together at
their own request " eight or ten persons in London" —
there were in heaven an eye that marked and a love
that blessed the deed.

" A thing is great or little only to a mortal's thinking,
It is but the littleness of man that seeth no greatness in a trifle."

Mark the tenor of the language which tells of the rise
of the " United Societies," which, founded upon scrip-
tural principles, have now expanded into a flourishing
church :

tabor; or, the class-meeting. 23

" In the latter end of the year 1739, eight or ten per-
sons came to me in London, who appeared to be deeply
convinced of sin, and earnestly groaning for redemption.
They desired (as did two or three more the next day)
that I wonld spend some time with them in prayer, and
advise them how to flee from the wrath to come, which
they saw continually hanging over their heads. That
we might have more time for this great work, I ap-
pointed a day when they might all come together;
which from henceforward they did every week, viz.,
on Thursday, in the evening. To these, and as many
more as desired to join with them (for their number
increased daily), I gave those advices from time to
time which I judged most needful for them ; and we
also concluded our meetings with prayer suited to their
several necessities."

How forcibly does this remind us of the days of
Malachi, when " they that feared the Lord spake often
one to another ', and the Lord hearkened and heard —
and a Book of remembrance" — the Lord's class oooTc —
" was written before him for them that feared the Lord,
and that thought upon his name !" How vividly does
it recall that union in prayer which gives it such a
princely power ! " If two of you shall agree on earth
as touching anything that they shall ask, it shall be
done for them of my Father which is in heaven."
How does it bring before us the exhortations scattered
through the whole compass of apostolic writing!

24: TABOR J OR, THE CLASS-MEETING.

"Bear ye one another's burdens, and so fulfill the law
of Christ;" — and especially how accordant is it with
the confession of our faults one to another (not auricu-
lar confession to a priest — that we abhor), which St.
James enjoins. (Jas. v. 16.) If we have not direct
Scripture command, we have Scripture permission, ap-
proval, and usage ; and, while we are content that a
Class-Meeting should be considered as prudential rather
than authoritative, we hold to the persuasion that it has
been a means of grace, which, perhaps beyond all
others of a supplemental character, has been signally
honored by the blessing of God.

You, as hearers of our ministry, are doubtless aware
that membership in one of these Class-Meetings is in-
dispensable to constitute union with Methodism, and
that those only, who statedly attend these seasons of
Christian fellowship, are " accredited and rightful com-
municants of our Church." Writing as Methodists,
we condemn not other sections of the church universal.
It may not be their vocation. They certainly do not
prize it as their privilege. For ourselves, however, for
the benefit of our own family, we are free to confess
an ardent attachment in this matter to the " good ways"
of our fathers. The Class-Meeting is storied of old.
It is associated with our traditional and sacred records
of the master spirits of early Methodism — those large-
hearted men "of whom the world was not worthy."
It was to them as the blest Elim of palms and fount-
ains to the desert wayfarer; and such is the sanctity

25

of affection with which we regard it, that it compels
the prayer, not with bated breath, but with the loud
voice of earnest entreaty ; — God forbid the day should
ever dawn when the Class-Meeting shall cease to be as
an organized system of testimony, the badge of mem-
bership in the Methodist branch of the Church of
Christ.

Let us be guarded here. We do not believe, nor do
we affirm, that connection with the Class-Meeting is
necessarily an indication of piety, nor of that right
state of heart, which is acceptable in the sight of God.
There may be — there probably are — numbers amongst
us of whom we are "in doubt," and over whose de-
fective consistency we mourn. It is not surprising,
when there were "carnal walkers" in the Corinthian
church, and even a Judas amongst the twelve. But
where is there an equal vigilance to prevent -the re-
cognition of improper persons as members? In what
church in Christendom are there manifested greater
fidelity and solemnity in matters of experience and
practice? The charge of encouraging mixed fellow-
ship, which has been so injuriously cast upon our minis-
ters, is unwarranted and untrue. That our only re-
quirement is " a desire to flee from the wrath to come,"
is certain. But what does this mean ? How is it ma-
nifested? It is not the careless confession, in which
there is no heart — -nor the emotion of the man, who
repents to-night and sins again to-morrow — nor yet
the mere feeling of remorse, the Judas-like penitence,

2

which " worketh death." There must be " repentance
toward God" — the deep and abiding penitence — the
strong conviction of personal guilt and danger — the
"broken heart," which is God's chosen sacrifice — the
godly sorrow, which chastens the entire character —
the whole of the emotions comprehended in the ex-
pressive word — contrition. None, in the judgment of
our church — as embodied in her inimitable Rules —
sincerely feel this desire but they who bring forth its
" fruits meet for repentance" — the crushing sense of
ingratitude — the careful avoidance of evil — the earnest
inquiry after good — the submissive search for truth —
and the restless anxiety which refuses to be satisfied
without the experience of its power. None but these,
therefore, are interested in this address. Do not mis-
take us. We invite you on the assumption — and that
assumption is indispensable — and that assumption is
all that is indispensable — that you are thus desirous to
"flee from the wrath to come." TVe are jealous of
accessions that may pollute its purity. The careless,
and the profane, and the trifling, and the selfish —
alas ! that we have such hearers ! — our invitation
passes by: Dearly as we wish their welfare, we dare
not invite them, in their present state, amongst us.
" They have no part nor lot in the matter." But we
believe there are thousands of our hearers in different
parts of the land, whose hearts God hath touched —
who are hopeful and promising as to religious
impression, and who manifest a ceaseless concern

TABOE ; OK, THE CLASS-MEETING. 27

for their souls ; and it is to tliem we make our
appeal.

Dear friends, those of you that are in such a case,
to this membership we invite you. We have watched
for you with eager solicitude. We have yearned over
you with a pastor's yearning. Upon your spiritual
state we have expended many an anxious thought, for
your spiritual welfare we have breathed many a fer-
vent prayer. We rejoice to see you in the sanctuary,
but we would have you glad us with your presence at
our family festivals. We see you standing at the
threshold — we wish you to cluster round the hearth-
stone and to be warmed at the fire. Perhaps you have
not adequately considered the advantages of this in-
valuable fellowship. Will you lend us your attention
for awhile to a brief enumeration ?

I. The Class-Meeting induces Self -examination. —
Thoughtlessness is the great sin and inveterate habit of
the world. The natural man presents the " remarkable
spectacle of a soul afraid of itself, afraid to stay with
itself, alone, still and attentive." He may, perhaps,
have parleyed sometimes with his immortal spirit, after
the manner of some lordly nobleman speaking to an old
servant of his house : " Soul, thou hast much goods laid
up for many years, take thine ease, eat, drink, and be
merry ;" or, haply some adventurous one set out with
the fixed intention of visiting his heart's secret cham-
bers, but his feelings were like those of one who entered
a gloomy and long-deserted mansion. To his disor-

28 TABOR ; OR, THE CLASS-MEETIXG.

dered imagination strange tremors shook the arras,
unearthly echoes sounded from the stair, apparitions
met the straining eye-ball upon every landing —

" For over all there hung a cloud of fear,
A sense of mystery the spirit daunted,
And said, as plain as whisper in the ear,
The place is haunted !"

and he retired affrighted, with the big, cold drops upon
his brow, and it must be a powerful motive that will
tempt him into those chambers again. Nay, the Lord's
accusation against his ancient people is chargeable to a
great extent upon his people now, " My people do not
consider." How apt is the Christian, the heir of a
nobler life, the professor of a living faith, to neglect
the examination of himself! The countless activities
of this utilitarian age have been all temptations, to
which his busy spirit has been but too prone to yield.
The engrossing influence of business, the onward march
of intellect, the absorbing strife of politics, even the
enterprises of religious philanthropy, have all, in turn,
contributed most sadly to hinder the practice of self-
communion. The active has banished the reflective ;
and it is to be feared that there are professors of reli-
gion, who strangely reckon all the moments spent upon
themselves as so much wasted time.

Wordsworth has entered his indignant protest against
the intrusion of a railway to disturb the serenities of
Grasmere and Eydal. Oh, for some spiritual laureate

TABOR ; OR, THE CLASS-J£EETING. 29

— some sweet singer in Israel, to decry the multi-
plied excitements which tramp and rattle through the
offended mind! My friends, the Class-Meeting will
" lead you beside these still wraters." !No right-minded
and devotional spirit dares enter it without some kind
of self inquiry — some examination of himself — " whe-
ther he be in the faith." During the week, it may be,
when the strife of conrpetition waxed fierce, and the
race of human pursuits was going vigorously on, your
thoughts were hurried into the midst of them, until
they were bewildered even to exhaustion ; but now the
Class-Meeting is at hand, and the mind retires into its
sanctuary, and communes with itself and its God. It
is like the court-day of the soul, when the steward con-
science takes cognizance of all the tenants, and brings
them respectively beneath their Master's eye. How
searching that inquiry ! How hallowed that commu-
nion! "Another week of my probation has fled.
What record has it borne? What blessings has it scat-
tered from its wings ? What deliverances have I expe-
rienced ? What battles have I wTon ? What have
been my omissions, heart-wanderings, sins ? Am I
holier, more spiritually-minded ? Have I a nobler
scorn of the world ? a more earnest avarice for heaven %
The heart must be the better for inquiries like these,
made searchingly, and in the spirit of prayer. Then,
perhaps, heavenly thoughts will troop upon us, like the
descending visitants of Jacob's dream — and it may be —
who knows ? that wre may ' entertain angels unawares \J

30 TABOR ; OR, THE CLASS-MEETING.

or, better still, some kind-looking stranger may join us
on our Emmaus-travel, and make ' our hearts burn
within us as he talketh with us bj the way.' " These
are no trifling blessings, and these the Class -Meeting
indirectly procures, because it, in some sort, compels
self-communion, and thus induces a habit which may
be as powerful for good as former habits were powerful
for evil.

II. The Class-Meeting produces Gratitude. — Love —
the love of gratitude — is the essence of religion — the
first feeling of the regenerate soul. It springs electric
in the mind of the believer at his first sight of Jesus.
Authority cannot command it. Terror cannot frighten
it into existence. All the thousand-fold appliances of
worldly wisdom cannot create it. There must be per-
ception of love in God — a sense of his good-will — a
view of the crucified as well as of the cross before it be
enkindled. " We love him oecause he first loved us."
This feeling of gratitude is too deeply grateful for
description. Language is but a mockery. Illustration
fails. It is beyond a figure, and without a parallel.
Who sees not the danger that an emotion like this, if
hidden in the breast, should spend itself by its own
continuity ? Gratitude is not like the mountain ava-
lanche, which gains intensity from repression — it is
rather like the fire, which imprisonment extinguishes — i
or air, which, pure and free, is the refreshing breath of
heaven; but, fouled by confinement, is the blast of
pestilence and death. Contemplation upon God's

TABOR ; OK, THE CLASS-MEETING. 31

boundless love tends naturally to expression. " "While
I was musing the fire burned, then spake I with my
tongue." Now, the Class-Meeting furnishes the most
appropriate occasion for this expression of praise. It is
large enough to redeem from privacy, and not large
enough to exclude the notion of a family, and it would
be difficult to find a more legitimate sphere, in which
the full heart may utter its thanks, unfold its hopes,
and breathe its prayers. Nay, can there be gratitude
without this thankful acknowledgment? Is there not
enough in the dealings of your heavenly Father to
compel it ? The grace which loved you from the begin-
ning—the visitations of mercy which have lighted your
path — the beams of promise that have shone upon
your head — the kind heart that has borne with your
wanderings — the beckoning hand which restored you
when you went astray — are they not constraining you ?
If we were permitted to anticipate the objection which
the rebel heart sometimes whispers : "I cannot speak,"
might we not say — Ah ! friends, get the love of God
shed abroad within you, and it wi]l fill your mouth with
arguments. Wondrous is the power of this surpass-
ingly mighty theme. It makes the lips of the stam-
merer eloquent, and the heart of the diffident bold.
Under its inspiring influence, knowledge kindles on the
countenance — praise flows from the tongue — and the
most timid and retiring are transported into the invita-
tion of the Psalmist, " Come all ye that fear God, and
I will declare what he hath done for my soul."

32 TABOR ; OR, THE CLASS-MEETING.

III. The Class-Meeting recognizes brotherhood. — It is
a mighty truth which God has written upon the uni-
verse, and stamped enduringly npon the great heart of
humanity, that " No man liveth to himself." The
world is a vast mass of dependencies. The feeblest
woman or the humblest peasant exerts an influence
which must be felt in the great brotherhood of man-
kind. It is a precious appointment of Providence, that
it has, in some sense, made our very selfishness benevo-
lent— that it has bound us, at the peril of losing our own
enjoyments, to care for the necessities of others — and
that it has extracted the most satisfying elements of
public happiness from the joys and perils of individual
lot. The heart, by a law of its constitution, must have
something to which it can attach itself. Its emblems
are the summer-tendril and the clasping ivy. It was
never formed for the hermitage or the monastery — and
you must do violence to all its excellent charities,
before it will entirely denude itself of all objects of
solicitude and love. The Class-Meeting here comes in
to supply a great want of nature. It concentrates the
feeling of brotherhood — prevents it from being frit-
tered away in vague and sentimental generalities — and
gives it a definite object and aim. If the church is the
temple, the Class-Meeting is an inner and sacred inclo-
sure. If the church is the populous city, the Class-
Meeting is the united family, where love is throned in
the heart and confidence nestles in the roof-tree. Every
faithful leader will impress upon his flock, and every

TABOR ; OK, THE CLASS-MEETING. 33

devoted member will take care to feel, that, while the
church at large claims his philanthropic sympathy and
effort, to his own fellow-members he is to cherish the
closer and deeper feelings of home. Here especially
there are no orphans. a Whether one member suffer,
all the members suffer with it ; or one member be
honored, all the members rejoice with it." They are
joined as in a commonwealth. " They love as bre-
thren." Why join you not this heavenly communion ?
Are you not, like the prodigal, in a far country, and,
perhaps, if your pride would but confess it, inwardly
pining for the " bread enough and to spare " of your
Father's house at home ? Have you sufficiently consi-
dered that in your present state, regarding you as
travellers to another world, you are isolated, and — for-
give the word — selfish — exhibiting a practical denial of
all brotherly relationship, by remaining to wrestle with
your enemies, and gain your heaven alone ?

IV. The Glass-Meeting elicits Sympathy. — Good sense
and rich exprerience are the fruits of intercourse. ~No
man ever yet became either wise or holy by exclusively
"communing with his own heart upon his bed." We
have heard much lately on the tendency of seclusion
to cherish the spirit of piety, and there are not wanting
those who would revive in all their severity the monas-
ticisms of past ages. Mistaken men! The sweet
flowerets of Divine grace can rarely be acclimated to
the damp soil of the convent; they are not like the
sensitive mimosa, which shrinks even from the gentlest

2*

34: TABOR ; OR, THE CLASS-MEETING.

handling, but rather, like the delicate heart's-ease,
grateful for gracious dew-falls, and breathing zephyrs,
and the blessed sun, and yet courting the culture and
the companionship of man. Christianity is not an ima-
ginative revelry upon great truths — it is an earnest
endeavor to exemplify them. It is not contemplative
pietism, it is unceasing labor. It is not an alien princi-
ple, which has no sympathy with our nature, and is
content with its distant and constrained submission — it
is an all-pervasive element, shrined in the heart, and
influencing benignly the whole of the character.
" Knox," says Dr. Chalmers, " did not destroy the old
Romish pulpits at the time of the Reformation ; he did
better: he preached in them." Christianity does not
annihilate a single passion — does not extinguish a single
affection of our nature. It does better. It employs the
former for its own noble purposes, and it fixes the latter
where they may attach themselves, without fear of
idolatry, even upon " things above." The passions of
the Christian, therefore, are as strong — the affections of
the Christian are as warm — as those of any man. The
charities of life, and of love, and of home, flourish as
endearingly in the mind of the Christian as anywhere,
and he has that intense yearning for sympathy which
characterizes universal man. Here again, the Class-
Meeting supplies a great want of nature. It is composed
a band of wayfarers, met for the express purpose of
sympathizing with each other in the struggles and perils
of their common journey. How often has it opened up

TABOR ; OR, THE CLASS-MEETING. 35

a weekly heaven, amid the dull and clouded atmosphere
of sinfulness and time ! One is sorely tempted. The
temptation presses hard npon his spirit, with such
mighty fascinations is it clad — in such newer "blasphemy
does it prompt him to indulge, that he thinks surely
this is a " temptation that is not common to men." But
at the Class that week, a fellow-traveller relates the
bitter experience of the same suggestions, and the blest
experience of deliverance from their power ; and a new
song is put into his mouth, and he goes on his way re-
joicing. Another is bowed down beneath the influence
of a temptation adjusted with such nicety to his peculiar
besetment as to be almost irresistible in its appeals, but
the weekly season of fellowship has come, and the
words of the faithful leader " are words in season," and
One mightier than the leader is there, and a glance at
his pure countenance — a touch of his invigorating hand
— and he is nerved for the conflict, and spurns the
assaulter away. Another has been stricken with a
spiritual paralysis — a wearisome torpor has seized him,
a strange indifference has come upon his soul — and, as
in the Class-Meeting, he tells his tale of half-heartedness
and sin, amid the counsels of the faithful and the
prayers of the pious, the glorious presence of the
Saviour bursts in light upon the chained one, and in all
the strength and nobility of spiritual life, he " walks "
afresh " with God."

And who can tell the beneficial influence to the Zion-
ward journeyer, when persons of all ranks, character,

36 TABOR ; OR, THE CLASS-MEETING.

and ages, unite to testify that " the same Lord over all
is rich in mercy nnto all them that call npon him I"
Perhaps there is an aged pilgrim who for years has
walked and fainted not. Many a hill of difficulty has
he climbed, many a valley of humiliation has he trod-
den— he has tales to tell of wary walkings on enchanted
ground — of hair-breadth escape out of the net of the
Flatterer — aye, and of ravishing prospects for the
Delectable mountains and from the elevations of
Pisgah; and, while his eye brightens and his voice
falters, he tells also that he has never repented his
setting forth on pilgrimage, and that the pleasures are
sweeter, and the toils less irksome, than when, in youth,
lie grasped the palmer-staff and strapped on the sandals.
Is it nothing to be favored with the testimony of such
an one, and to sit under his shadow with delight ? to
have our rash judgments rebuked by his experience,
and our faith confirmed by the ardors of his imperish-
able hope ? There is a young convert there, it may be,
who has recently realized a wonderful change, even,
" from darkness to light, and from the power of Satan
unto God." He has found " peace and joy in believ-
ing ;" and the new-found gladness that is within him
steeps the sky in brighter blue, and decks the earth
with bonnier green ; and, blushing at his own fervor, he
pours forth in the Class-Meeting his ascriptions of praise.
The old man hears, and is reminded of the days of his
first love — it is like a snatch of the music that used to
thrill the soul of yore, and, in a moment, memory has

TABOE ; OK, TIIE CLASS-MEETING-. 37

painted the first conviction — the early struggles — the
doubt that harassed his young mind — the triumph
with which he hailed its departure — and, above all, the
eventful moment when joy broke through his swimming
eyes as he believingly said, "My Father!" Who sees
not the mutual and glorious benefit — the young
instructed by the experience of the aged — the aged
charmed and quickened by the enthusiasm of the
young. And then there is one sympathy on this head
which it would be unpardonable in us to omit, and that
is the sympathy of prayer. Who can be lonely or
despairing, even in this wilderness world, with the con-
sciousness that there are hearts praying for him?
hearts of those who are animated by similar hopes, and
depressed by similar fears, and who are bound by their
membership to " make intercession for " the household
of faith " according to the will of God ?" My friends,
if there were no other disadvantage in your present
anomalous position as aloof from the church of Christ,
than this — that by your separation you deprive yourself
of the church's prayers — there is a fearfulness in the
thought which might well cause you to reflect and
tremble. Desolate indeed is the spirit — cursed as the
dewless hills of Gilboa — for which no prayer ascends,
on whose behalf no knee is bowed to heaven. "Rich in
his penury is poverty's poorest child, if his portion is the
supplication of the faithful ! Happy the lonely watcher
upon the gallant vessel's deck, if over the waste of
waters the wife of his bosom prays ! [Never is a heart

38 * TABOE ; OR, THE CLASS-MEETING.

orphaned, or divorced utterly from hope and heaven, if
in some extremes t corner there rises one yearning
spirit's prayer. And if individual prayer can do so
much, what must be the effect of many ? My friends,
we would be almost content to rest the whole" matter
here, this one advantage would so overwhelmingly con-
strain your decision. Bold indeed must you be in self-
confidence, in infatuation, in sin, if you refuse to avail
yourselves of the sympathy of prayer. Oh ! by every
motive which your souls will acknowledge as having
either sacredness or power, you are adjured, against the
evil day, to insure for yourselves the " effectual fervent
prayer."

Y. The Class-Meeting confesses Discipleship. — Every
believer is called to witness for God. You cannot have
forgotten how largely our Saviour impressed upon his
immediate disciples the duty of " not being ashamed
of him," and of " confessing him in the sight of men."
You will also recollect how the Apostle of the Gentiles
makes confession to be on a parallel with faith in that
memorable passage, " If thou shalt confess with thy
month the Lord Jesus, and believe in thine heart that
God hath raised him from the dead, thou shalt be saved.
For with the heart man believeth unto righteousness,
and with the mouth confession is made unto salvation."
Such confession cannot be adequately made either by
mere verbal acknowledgment or exemplary obedience, it
can only be made by a solemn dedication " to God's
people according to his will." Your solitary " witness"

tabor; or, the '•class-meeting. 39

of obedience, or of faith, is lost like an invisible atom in
the air, it is the union of each particle, in itself insig-
nificant, that constitutes the " cloud " of witnesses
which the world can see. Ask yourselves, we pray
you, whether this is not just the element that is lacking
in your religious decision. You are desirous to flee
from the wrath, to come — you have yielded in some
measure to religious influence — you are endeavoring to
" square your useful lives below by reason and by
grace " — you. have even felt at times some emotions of
religious joy, and yet you are not permanently happy.
Why? Because you have been, pardon the word,
traitorous to the grace of God, in that, like Hezekiah of
old, you have not u rendered again according to the
benefit done unto you." Oh, remember how seriously
you peril, by your present conduct, the interests of your
souls ! You are like a venturous traveller, who plunges,
unaided and alone, into the tangled thicket, whose every
tree may covert a robber. You are like a ship that has
voyaged from the fleet, and forsaken the convoy, and if
a storm should arise, where are the friendly hands to
launch the life-boat, or to rescue the perishing ? You
are like a soldier, who, confiding in his own prowess,
spurns the discipline of the regiment, and passes singly
through the armies of the aliens, and if he shoidd be
surprised and stricken, where are the generous comrades
to cover his retreat, or bear him from the field, or
" bind up his wounds, pouring in oil and wine ?" Nay,
friends, for we can hesitate no longer ; we must deliver

40 TABOR ; OR, THE CLASS-MEETING.

our soul — God requires this public dedication. He
must not only have the enlightened approval of the
head, and the loyal allegiance of the heart, but the
cordial emir ace of the hand / and we dare not refrain
from the expression of an opinion, founded, we believe,
upon the requirements of the law of God, that so long
as you keep aloof from his people, and are not united
with some branch of his visible church, you are not

SAEE TOTJ ARE IN DANGER.

"We believe in the present state of the antagonist
armies of truth and error — Neutrality is Opposition.
" He that is not for us is against us," and the transition
is a very natural one to the belief that connection with
some visible branch of the Church of Christ is necessary
to salvation. We neither limit nor specify — God forbid
that we should trammel the conscience of any one — but
as right-hearted Methodists, Methodists from conviction
and preference, we should be guiltily wrong if we dared
not recommend our own.

It is not our business, it is not our wish to make
proselytes. "We would not descend from our elevation,
we would not leave our vantage-ground to do it. " We
have not so learned Christ." "With other churches we
have no quarrel. "We regard them — all who hold the
head — as " houses of the Lord," and heartily do we
wish them God speed. " Let there be no strife between
our herdmen and theirs." But we differ somewhat in
our notions of spiritual agriculture, and haply it is our
vocation to reclaim some waste lands that they would

TABOR ; OK, THE CLASS-MEETING. 41

not think worth the tillage. You will not blame us,
therefore, if while we do not disparage their communion,
we prefer our own. Broad principles of philanthropy,
however expansive, never root out the love of home.
He is a churl, who cannot warm himself at an y hearth
but his own ; and he is only half a man, who is not,
after all, loudest in praise of his own ingle nook, and of
the comfortable blaze that mantles from his own fire.
Upon you we have a claim. You are haunted by no
scruples as to the validity of our orders, or the purity
of our doctrines. By your attendance upon our minis-
try, you have accorded us your free and generous pre-
ference. " If we are not apostles unto others, yet
doubtless we are apostles unto you." Be no longer
outer court worshippers. Bind yourselves to us by a
tenderer tie. Come into our church. Approach the
inner shrines of our worship. Attach yourselves to our
Class-Meetings, and you will find them to be as the
" upper room," renowned for the rushing wind and for
the cloven tongues of flame.

[Now, dear friends, what is your decision ? Bring all
your objections, all the thousand excuses which the
unwilling heart coins ; the fear of man — the inconsis-
tency of professors — the dread of ridicule — the appre-
hension of falling — the repugnance to declare God's
dealings with you ; weigh them in the balance of the
sanctuary, and ask yourselves, I entreat you, in the
name of God, and under the impression of his eye,
u Shall I deem these apologies sufficient in the article

42 TABOR ; OR, THE CLASS-MEETING.

of death, and when the light of eternity shall flash upon
the doings of time ?"

Dear friends, our task is done. This address has been
written in mrny weaknesses, and in much prayer.
Read it in a similar spirit, and ask God in the secrecy
of your communion-closet, to teach you his will.
Change is the great law of the present state of being.
The autograph of decay is graven upon temple, and
tower, and time. Our friends have faded and fallen in
our siffht — "who hath not lost a friend?" Ourselves
are dying creatures. He who writes, and you who
read, will speedily pass to the judgment. Already the
broad shadow of eternity looms upon us ; under that
shadow meditate and decide. Everything around you
seems to urge a recognition of the vast importance of the
claim. The wiles of the enemy — the deceitfulnes, never
yet fathomed, of the human heart — the perils of the yet
untravelled future — the awfulness of wandering onward,
agonized and without a praying friend — the blessings
of Christian communion — the helpfulness of rich and
mellow experience — the absolute requirement of God —
all, as with the voice of many waters, swell the force-
fulness of our last appeal, which we now fling forth
upon your souls, and may heaven clothe it with power :
" Come with rs, and we will do you good, for the
Lord hath spoken good concerning Israel."

PUNSHON'S SERMONS.

MEMOEIES OF THE WAY.

" And thou shalt remember all the way which the Lord thy God led
thee these forty years in the wilderness, to humble thee, and to prove
thee, to know what was in thine heart, whether thou wouldst keep his
commandments, or no." — Deut. viii. 2.

A peculiar solemnity would be attached to these
words in their original utterance, especially in the mind
of the person who uttered them, for they were spoken
under the shadow of approaching departure. Last
words are proverbially impressive, and these were
among the last words of the veteran Moses to the peo-
ple of his charge and love. There had grown in his
heart a strong affection for the children of Israel during
his forty years' administration of their affairs. He had
watched over them with fatherly tenderness, and had
guided them through the intricacies of the desert, to the
borders of the promised land. Often had he been
wearied by their murmurings, often had he been pro-
voked by their unbelief. He had been alternately the

43

44: MEMORIES OF THE WAY.

object of their mistrust and of tlieir confidence, of their
jealousy and of their enthusiasm, and jet their very
waywardness only seemed the more warmly to endear
them ; and, with a love stronger than death, he loved
them unto the end. Aware that, by his unadvised
speaking at the waters of Meribah, he had barred his
own entrance into Canaan, and animated with a passion
for the welfare of his people, intenser as the time of
their separation drew nearer, he gathered them upon the
plains of Moab, and in solemn and weighty words re-
traced the path they had trod, warned them against
their besetting dangers, and exhorted them to fidelity in
Jehovah's service. In the midst of this advice, the
words of the text occur, summoning them, so to speak,
to take a mental pilgrimage over all the track which
they had travelled, and to connect it with beneficial
uses which might influence their future lives. Such a
review of the past is always wise and salutary when it
is conducted in a becoming and prayerful spirit, and to
such a review of the past, therefore, it is that we invite
you to-day. We may not unprofitably accompany the
children of Israel in their review of the way which they
had trod ; we may learn lessons in their company which
may effectually benefit ourselves. In order that we
may preserve some sort of system in our contempla-
tions, we will notice, in the first instance, the remem-
brance of the way; secondly, the purpose of God's
providence in the journey ; and, thirdly, the uses of
the memory.

MEMORIES OF THE WAT. 45

I. In the first place, the remembrance of the way.
" Thou shalt remember all the way which the Lord thy
God hath led thee these forty years in the wilderness."
It is a wonderful faculty, this faculty of memory. Its
acts seem to he of the nature of miracles wrought con-
tinually for the conviction of unbelief. We cannot
expound its philosophy, nor tell its dwelling-place, nor
name the subtle chords which evoke it from its slum-
bers. A snatch of music in the street, the sight of a
modest flower or of an old tree, a word dropped casu-
ally by a passer-by, a face that flits by us in the hurry-
ing crowd, have summoned the gone years to our side,
and filled us in a moment with memories of divinest
comfort or of deepest sorrow. The power of memory is
lasting and is influential. A kindness has been done in
secret ; but that seed, dropped into the soil of memory,
has borne fruitage in the gratitude of years. A harsh
word or an inflicted injury, flung upon the memory,
has rankled there into lawlessness and into sin. No
man can be solitary who has memory. The poorest of
us, if he have memory, is richer than he knows, for by
it we can reproduce ourselves, be young even when the
limbs are failing, and have all the past belonging to us
when the hair is silvery and the eyes are dim. How
can he be a skeptic or a materialist, for whom memory
every moment raises the dead, and refuses to surrender
the departed years to the destroyer; communes with
the loved ones though the shroud enfolds them ; and
converses with cherished voices which for long years

46 MEMORIES OF THE WAY.

have never spoken with tongues ? I had almost said,
but that I know the deep depravity of the human heart,
how can he sin who has memory ? For though the mur-
derer may stab his victim in secret, far from living wit-
nesses, and may carefully remove from the polluted earth
the foul traces of his crime, memory is a witness that he
can neither gag nor stifle, and he bears about with him
in his own terrible consciousness the blasted immor-
tality of his being. Oh, it is a rare and a divine
endowment ! Memories of sanctity or sin pervade all
the firmament of being. There is but the flitting
moment in which to hope or to enjoy, but in the calen-
dar of memory that moment is all time. This, then, is
the faculty which the Jewish law-giver calls up into
exercise : "Thou shalt remember all the way which the
Lord thy God hath led thee these forty years in the
wilderness." And in truth there could be no grander
history, nor one richer in instruction, than theirs.
From the time when they groaned in bondage, and
their cry went up unto God, until now, when, after
forty years' vicissitudes, they stood upon the threshold of
the land of Canaan, each day would have its wonder and
its lesson. They had been led by a way which they knew
not ; they had seen the laws of nature suspended, and
the mechanism of the firmament disorganized on their
behalf. In Egypt they had quailed beneath the very
Omnipotence which had. delivered them, and they had
crouched trembling at the base of Sinai, while ever and
anon loomed through the darkness the flashings forth

MEMORIES OF THE WAY. 47

of the Divinity within. Sustained by perpetual mira-
cle, delivered with an outstretched arm, with the bar-
renness behind and the plenty before them, they were
to " remember the way which the Lord had led them in
the wilderness."

Brethren, our own, if we will only think of it, has
been an instructive history. There is much in the life
of each of us, in its rest, and in its change, in its
hazard, and in its deliverance, which will repay us if
we revisit it to-day. Be it ours to recall the ,past, to
recover the obliterated circumstance, to abide again at
each halting-place of our journey, to decipher the
various inscriptions which the lapse of time has fretted
almost to decay, to remember, as the Israelites, the way
which the Lord hath led us.

1. There would be in their history, in the first place,
the remembrance of favor, and by consequence of joy.
All through their course they had had very special
manifestations of the power and goodness of God. He
had brought them out with a high hand from the pride
and tyranny of Pharaoh, he had cleared a path for
them through the obedient waters, the heavens had
rained down sustenance, the rock had quenched their
thirst ; Jehovah's presence had gone with them
through the tangled desert path, by day in guiding
cloud, by night in lambent flame ; their raiment had
not waxed old upon them, neither their foot swelled,
for forty years. He had spoiled their enemies in
their sight. Sihon, king of the Amorites, and Og,

48 MEMORIES OF THE WAY.

king of Bashan, had fallen before his power. When
the law-giver gathered the tribes in the plains of
Moab, he could say : " Not one thing of all that the
Lord your God, hath spoken hath ever failed ;" and
there was not a murmur in the host, and there was not
an individual in the congregation that could either gain-
say or deny.

Brethren, there could not fail to be great and grateful
rejoicing in this remembrance of the loving kindness
of the Lord. That loving kindness has compassed us
from the first moment of our existence until now, and
by his favor he hath made our mountain to stand strong.
I would call up before you to-day those scenes in your
history upon which you are apt to dwell with joyous
and grateful memory. Think of the gracious Provi-
dence who cared for your infancy, and who prevented
your doings in youth ; think of the unexpected deliver-
ances, the unlooked-for surprises of blessing with which
you have been visited ; pause before the various stones
of help which you have erected in the course of your
journey ; remember the stores of gladness inexhaust-
ible and constantly operating, that have been poured
upon you by the bounty of your heavenly Father ; the
joy of your heart, the joy peculiar to yourselves, the
natural and inevitable outflow of childhood's sportive-
ness and glee, the joy of enlarging knowledge, the joy
of some new discovery of the beautiful, of some keener
thirst after the true ; the joy of travel, the sight of
earth's great cities, fair landscapes, and spots renowned

MEMORIES OF THE WAY. 49

in song and story; the joy of home, of parents whose
love has cast a spell npon your after-lives, from which
yon wonld not be disenchanted if you could — brother,
and sister, and wife, and husband, names that mean
more to the heart, a thousand-fold, than they can ever
mean to the ear; friends that knew you and that under-
stood you, those twin souls who bore with your weak-
nesses without chiding, and who entered into your
dreams with sympathy. The joy of meetings, and of
farewells, and of that which came between more sweet
than each. The joy of the Church ; victory over some
besetting temptation ; glad seasons of Christian fellow-
ship, which can never be forgotten ; sermons that
seemed, in their exquisite adaptedness, as if they had
been made for you, to counsel in perplexity, to comfort
in trouble ; sacramental occasions when, in no distem-
pered vision, you "saw heaven opened, and the Son
of Man standing upon the right hand of the throne of
God." The joy of usefulness, the gladness which thrilled
through you when you succored the distressed, or were
valiant for the truth, or pitied and reclaimed the erring,
or flung the garment of praise over some bewildered
spirit of heaviness. The joy that has sprung for you
out of sorrow, and has been all the brighter for the con-
trast ; deliverance from danger which threatened to be
imminent, recovery from sickness that seemed as though
it were about to be mortal ; the lightnings that have let
the glory through the clouds ; the flowers that you have
so often plucked from tombs. Call up the mighty sum

3

50 MEMORIES OF THE WAY.

of gladness now, and as, subdued and grateful in the
memory, you think of your past times, many a lip
will quiver and many a heart be full, as you remem-
ber the way which the Lord hath led you in the wil-
derness.

2. There would, secondly, be in their history the re-
membranee of sin, and, by consequence of sin, the re-
membrance of sorrow. Nothing is more remarkable as
a fact, and more illustrative of the depravity of the
human heart, than the frequency with which the child-
ren of Israel sinned. Only three days after the won-
derful interposition at the Red Sea, their murmurings
began. The miracle at Marah, although it appeased
their thirst, failed to inspire their confidence, for they
tempted God again at the Waters of Strife. Although
the manna fell without ceasing, they lusted after the
neshpots of Egypt. Their whole history, indeed, is a
record of perpetual sin, a perpetual lapse, now into
jealousy, and now into sensualism, now into unbelief,
and now, alas, into idolatry. These repeated trans-
gressions, of necessity, introduced them to sorrow, and
they suffered, in almost every variety, the strokes of
Jehovah's displeasure. They were wasted by success-
ive pestilences ; they were devoured by fiery serpents
in the wilderness ; the earth opened her mouth and
swallowed up the rebellious sons of Korah ; the Lord
went not forth with their hosts to battle ; and they fled
discomfited and crestfallen before the face of their
enemies. Their journey was made protracted and

MEMORIES OF THE WAT. 51

dangerous. Bereavement visited every tent in turn.
One after another the head of each family, bowed, and
sunk, and fell, until of all those who left Egypt, stal-
wart and sinewy men, only two, and those of another
spirit, remained to enter into the land of promise and
of rest ; and the very lawgiver who called up the
exercise of the memory, and the few old men, upon
whose brows the almond tree was flourishing, thinly
scattered here and there among the tribes, knew that
their heads "must bow, their frames dissolve in death,
ere the van-standard of the host could be unfurled
within the borders of the promised land. There could
not fail to be subdued and pensive emotion in this
aspect of the remembrance of the way. Our own
history has its sorrowful side, too, which it will be well
for us to remember to-day. All sorrow, of course,
comes originally from sin, but there is some sorrow
which we inherit from no personal transgression, but
which has been handed down to us, a sad entail of
suffering, a disastrous transmission from our earliest
fathers. The remembrance of such sorrows stretches
far back in the history of every one's life. Perhaps
you were cruelly treated in youth, and you can hardly
think of it now without shuddering. Perhaps some
bitter disappointment made your path ungenial, or
some early unkindness came like a frost-blight upon
your fresh, young hopes, just when you were beginning
to indulge them. Perhaps a long sickness chained you
down, and you suffered the illness of hope deferred,

52 MEMORIES OF THE WAY.

and you wondered whether the cheek would ever bloom
again in the ruddiness of health, and whether the elas-
tic pulse would ever bound and swell through the veins.
Perhaps there are other memories — most likely there
are — so dense in their darkness as to cast all the rest
into a relief of lesser shadow. The first breaking up
of your homes, the stroke that swept you into orphan-
hood, or that took away the desire of your eyes with a
stroke, or that cast you upon a cold world's charities
for work and bread. Call up these memories, though
the heart bleeds afresh as you think of them. They
have their uses ; they need not be summoned for the
first time in vain. And then the memory of sin —
don't hide it, don't be cowardly about it; confront
your yesterdays, not in defiance, but in penitence and
prayer ; your long resistance to the strivings of the
Holy Spirit, the veiled impertinence with which you
refused to hearken to a father's counsels and were deaf
to the entreaties of a mother's prayers. The sins of
your youth, which, though you humbly trust are par-
doned by the grace of God, plague you still, like the
scars of some old wound, with shooting pains in many
a change of weather. Your unfaithfulness since the
Lord called you, your indulgence since your conversion
in things you dared not for your lives have done while
you were seeking mercy. How you have cherished
some secret idol, or forborne to deliver them that were
drawn to death, or dwelt in your ceiled houses, intent
only upon you own aggrandizement and pleasure,

MEMORIES OF THE WAY. 53

while the house of God lay waste. Call up these
memories, do not disguise them ; they will bow you in
humility before God. *,

This is the memory of the way. "Thou shalt re-
member all the way which the Lord thy God hath led
thee.*' - All the way — it is necessary that all the way
should be remembered — the hill of difficulty as well as
the valley of humiliation, the time of prosperity as well
as the time of pain. Necessary for our advantage that
we may understand our position, learn the lessons of
providence and grace ; necessary that we may con-
struct a narrative, for every event in our history is con-
nected and mutually interpreted; necessary that we
may trace the outworking of Jehovah's plan in the
successive achievements of our lives. And if by the
memory of joy you are impressed with God's benefi-
cence, kept in cheerful piety, and saved from the foul
sin of repining ; and if by the memory of sorrow you
are molded into a gentler type, taught a softer sym-
pathy, and receive a heavenward impulse, and antici-
pate a blessed reunion ; if by the memory of sin you
are reminded of your frailty, and rebuked of your
pride, stimulated to repentance and urged to trust in
God — then it will be no irksomeness, but a heaven-sent
and precious blessing that you have thus " remembered
the way that the Lord hath led thee in the wilder-
ness."

II. I come, secondly, to notice the purposes of Divine
Providence in the journey. These are stated to be

54 MEMORIES OF THE WAT.

three : " to humble thee and to prove thee, to know
what was in thine heart, whether thou wonkiest keep
his commandments or no." The passage cells us that
in all God's dealings with the children of Israel, whether
he corrected them in judgment or enriched them witli
bounty, there were purposes at work — purposes of spi-
ritual discipline, intended to induce self-searching and
the improvement of their hearts and lives.

1. The first purpose that is spoken of is to induce
humility — "to humble thee." Every event, alike in
their deliverance from Egypt and in their passage
through the wilderness, was calculated to show them
their own feebleness, and their constant dependence
upon a high and upon a superior power. What could
human might have effected for them in the way of
securing their deliverance from Egypt? Their spirits
were broken by long years of slavery ; the iron had not
only gyved their limbs, it had entered into their soul.
They had not the heart, any one of them, to strike for
freedom ; and if they had even meditated a rising, they
were a people of such divided counsels, and so dis-
trustful of each other, that it would have been but a
paroxysm of frantic rebellion, which would have rooted
the Pharaohs on the empire, and have riveted upon
themselves the yoke of a more bitter bondage. "When
the permission for departure was wrung reluctantly
from the plague-stricken king, what could human
might have availed for them, when he repented of his
momentary graciousness, and pursued after them in hot

MEMORIES OF THE WAY. 55

haste, and they were on the borders of the Red Sea,
with the giant waves barring their progress, and a host
of ferocious enemies behind ? Everything in their ex-
perience taught them their dependence upon God.
They were led through a region that no adventurer
had ever explored, no foot had ever trod. When they
pitched their tents at eventide, they knew not at what
hour they should strike them, nor whether they should
strike them at all ; there might be forced years of en-
campment in that one spot ; there might be forced
marches and rapid progress ; but they had no control
over it : as the pillar went, and wherever the pillar
went, they went ; and as they sounded forth their
matin song of praise, there was not a man in the whole
congregation that could tell through what rocky clefts
or woody defiles the echoes of the vesper hymn would
sound. Their supply was as miraculous as their guid-
ance. ISTo plough had turned up the soil, no river mur-
mured by their side, they had never gazed for forty
years upon one solitary blossom of the spring-time, nor
had the golden grain ever once in their sight bent
gracefully to the sickle of the reaper : they were fed
with manna, which they knew not.

" When faint they were and parched with drought,
Water at his word gushed out."

Oh! it is the world's grandest illustration of man's
absolute feebleness and of God's eternal power. 600,000
fighting men, beside women and children, led by Divine

56 MEMOKIES OF THE WAT.

leadership, and fed by Divine bounty, for the space of
forty years. Brethren, the dealings of Providence with
ourselves are intended to show us our dependence upon
God, and to humble us in the dust under his mighty
hand. "We are very proud, sometimes, and we talk
about our endowments, and we boast largely of what we
have done, and what we intend to do ; but we can do
absolutely nothing. The athletic frame — how soon can
he bring it down ! The well-endowed heritage — how
soon can he scatter it ! The mental glance, keen and
piercing — how soon can he bring upon it the dimness
and bewilderment of years ! We cannot, any one of
us, bring ourselves into being ; we cannot, any one of
us, sustain ourselves in being for a moment. Alas!
who of us can stay the spirit, when the summons has
gone forth that it must die ? "We are free ; we cannot
help feeling that we are free ; and yet we can as little
help feeling that our freedom is bounded, that it has a
horizon, something that indicates a watchful Providence
outside. How often have we aimed at building for
ourselves tabernacles of remembrance and of rest, and
we have gazed upon the building joyfully as it pro-
gressed to completion, and then the breath of the Lord
lias blown upon it, and it has been scattered, and we
have been turned adrift and shelterless ; and, lo !
dwellings already provided for us of firmer materials
and of more excellent beauty, upon which we bestowed
no labor nor thought. And so it is with all the matters
of human glory. The strong man rejoiceth in his

MEMORIES OF THE WAY. 57

strength, and magnifieth himself in the might of his
arms, but the Lord hath made him strong; the wise
man glorifieth himself in his intellect, but the clear per-
ception, and the brilliant fancy, and the fluent utter-
ance, these are God's gifts ; the rich man rejoiceth in
his riches, but the prudence to plan, and the sagacity to
foresee, and the industry to gather, these are the bestow-
in en ts of God.

Ah ! why will men sacrifice to their own net, and
burn incense to their own drag, when they have abso-
lutely nothing which they have not received ; and
when every gift cometh from the Father of light, with
whom there is no variableness, neither shadow of turn-
ing ? And in the realm of morals, and in the spiritual
life, our feebleness is the same. A conscience void of
offence, a good report of those that are without a
heavenly purpose or a holy resolve, the inner purifica-
tion or the comely outgrowth of a beneficent life — we
are poor to compass them. We acquire them only by
our dependence upon God. Have you learned this
lesson, this deep, hard lesson of humility ? Forty years'
sins you have committed ! have they humbled you in
the presence of God ? Forty years' chastenings have
corrected you ! have they humbled your pride or fretted
you into greater audacity of rebellion ? Forty years'
mercies have blessed you ! have they excited your
gratitude or inflated, your vanity ? Brethren, we must
be humbled, if we would be happy. It wan in the
Valley of Humiliation, you remember, that the lad that

3*

58 MEMOEIES OF THE WAT.

had the herb heart's-ease in his bosom kept his serene
and his rejoicing home.

2. Then the second purpose of God's providence in
the journey is to prove us. The idea seems to be, that
a skillful chemist employs tests for the purpose of ana-
lysis, and to discover the composition of that which he
examines, so God uses the occurrences of life as a moral
touchstone, to discover the tendencies and inclinations
of man. Thus we read God did tempt, test, try, prove
Abraham, requiring from him a sacrifice, excessive and
apparently cruel, in order that he might know the
strength of his servant's faith, and of his filial fear.
There were many of those testing circumstances in the
history of the children of Israel. They were tested by
their mercies, as when, feeling the manna insipid, they
lusted after the flesh-pots of Egypt ; they were tested by
their duties ; they were tested by their calamities, as at
the Red Sea, and in the conflicts with the hosts of
Amalek. They were tested by their companions, as
when they formed unholy league with Midianite idola-
ters, and brought upon themselves that swift destruction
which Balak wished for, but which the cowardly Balaam
dared not for his life invoke. Brethren, God has his
crucible still. In our past lives we shall find circum-
stances that have tried ourselves, and we shall remem-
ber the results of the trial sometimes with devout
gratitude, oftener with unfeigned shame. Our afflic-
tions have tried us, and we have thought that we have
done well to be angry, and we have arraigned the pro-

MEMORIES OF THE WAY. 59

ceedings of God at the bar of our limited reason (solemn
mockery of judicature !) when, perhaps, the reflection
of to-morrow would have approved what the distrust of
to-day was so ready to condemn. Our duties have tried
us. We have felt the shrinking of the flesh, and the
result has been sometimes their reluctant and sometimes
their spiritless discharge. Other people have been
unjust or unkind to us : we have met with ingratitude
or with treachery ; our own familiar one, in whom we
trusted, has betrayed us ; slander has been busy belch-
ing out her calumnies against our fair fame ; all these
things have tested our patience, our endurance, our
meekness, our long-suffering, and, like Moses, we have
spoken unadvisedly, or, like the disciples, we have had
to pray, " Lord, increase our faith," before we could
grasp the large and princely idea of forgiveness to
seventy times seven. Often companionships have tried
us, and we have shown how small has been our self-
reliance and how easily we have taken the hue and
mold of the society in which we were thrown, and how
a pointed finger, or a sarcastic laugh, or a lip scornfully
curled, can shame the manhood out of us, and make us
very cowards in resisting evil, or in bearing witness for
God. Thus have we been, thus has God proved us in
the wilderness, and if we are in earnest for heaven, and
if we have in any measure profited by the discipline, we
shall be thankful for the trial. Placed as we are in a
sinful world, exposed to its e very-day influences,
whether of good or evil, wTe need a piety which can

60 MEMORIES OF THE WAY.

maintain itself in all circumstances, and under every
pressure. The trial will be a matter of choice, preferred
by every godly and valiant Christian soldier. He
feels as though that were an inglorious heaven that was
won without a sacrifice and without a toil ; he knows
that the promise is not that he shall pass through the
wilderness without the sight of an enemy ; it is a better
promise than that — that we shall never see an enemy
that we cannot master, and that by God's grace we can-
not completely overcome ; and he had rather don his
armor for a foeman worthy of his steel, for an enemy
that will at once prove his own valor and show the
resources of the Captain of his salvation, than he would
don it in order to prance in the gorgeous apparellings of
some holiday review. Oh ! believe me, the piety which
the world needs, which the church needs, and which we
must have if we would be approved of our Great
Master, must not be that sickly sentimentality which
lounges on ottomans, and discusses social and moral
problems while it is at ease in Sion ; it must be the
hardy principle pining in inaction, robust from healthy
exercise, never so happy as when it is climbiug up the
slopes of some difficult duties, and has the breeze from
the crest of the mountain stirring amid its waving hair ;
and happy, thrice happy, will it be for you if, as the
result of the inspection, you can say, as David did,
" Thou hast proved my heart and thou hast visited me
in the night ; thou hast tried me and shalt find nothing.
I am purposed that my heart shall not transgress, con-

MEMORIES OF THE WAY. 61

cerning the works of men ; by the word of thy lips
I have kept me from the paths of the destroyer."

3. And then the third purpose of Providence in the
journey is " to Tcnow what was in thine heart — whether
thou wouldest keep his commandments or no." The
human heart is a microcosm — a little world, containing in
itself all the strifes, and all the hopes, and all the fears,
and all the ventures of the larger world outside. The
human heart ! who can unravel its mystery, or decipher
its hidden law? The smile may play upon the lip,
while beneath there is die broken, burning heart ; and,
on the other hand, the countenance may have shadow
of anxiety, while the sunlight dances gaily on the soul.
The human heart! Human knowledge can give us very
little acquaintance with it ; such knowledge is too won-
derful for man ; it is high, and he cannot attain unto it ;
but there is One who knows it, and knows all its tortuous
policy, and all its sinister motive, and he is anxious that
we should know it, too, and one purpose of his provi-
dential dealings with us is, that we may know what is
in our heart; and yet of all sciences none is so difficult
of attainment as this same science of self-knowledge.
Whether it be from the deceitf ulness of the object of
study, or whether it be from the morbid reluctance,
almost amounting to fear, with which men shrink from
acquaintance with themselves, there are few that have
the bravery to pray, "Lord, make me to know myself."
Indeed, it were a hideous picture if it were suddenly
unveiled in the presence of us all. When the L^rd

62 MEMORIES OF THE WAY.

would show Ezekiel the abominations of Jerusalem, he
led him through successive chambers of imagery, upon
the walls of which were portrayed their loathsome and
unworthy doings. Ah ! if our enormities were to be
thus tapestried in our sight, who of us could bear the
disclosure? There wTas deep self-knowledge and deep
humility in the word of the old reformer, who, wThen he
saw a criminal led off amid the jeers of the multitude to
be hanged at Tyburn, turned around sighing, and said :
" There, but for the grace of God, goes old John Brad-
ford." There is a very affecting illustration of what can
lurk unsuspected in the human heart, in the 8th chapter
of the 2nd book of Kings: "And Elisha came to
Damascus ; and Ben-hadad, the king of Syria, was sick ;
and it was told him, saying, The man of God is come
hither. And the king said unto Hazael, Take a present
in thine hand, and go, meet the man of God, and in-
quire of the Lord by him, saying, Shall I recover of this
disease? So Hazael went to meet him, and took a pre-
sent with him, even of every good thing of Damascus,
forty camels' burden, and came and stood before him,
and said, Thy son, Ben-hadad, king of Syria, hath sent
me to thee, saying, Shall I recover of this disease ? And
Elisha said unto him, Go, say unto him, Thou mayest
certainly recover. [The disease itself is not fated to
destroy thee ; there is no decree of that kind], ilowbeit
the Lord hath showed me that he shall surely die..
And he settled his countenance steadfastly, until he was
ashamed ; and the man of God wept. And Hazael said,

MEMORIES OF THE WAY. 63

Why weepeth my lord? And he answered, Because I
know the evil that thou wilt do unto the children of
Israel ; their strongholds wilt thou set on fire, and their
young men wilt thou slay with the sword, and wilt dash
their children, and rip up their women with child.
And Hazael said [shocked at the bare mention of such
atrocities], But what, is thy servant a dog, that he
should do this great thing?" But, as the old divine
quaintly says, " the dog did it after all." Brethren,
there lurks this danger in us all ; there is no superiority
of character in ourselves ; there is no firmer power of
resistance to evil. In our unaided strength we are no
better fortified against the extremes of iniquity than
many around us who now wallow in the atrocities of
crime. That speculative merchant, whose affairs had be-
come hopelessly embarrassed, and who, in the vain hope
of retrieval, plied the too ready pen of the forger, and
in that sad moment forfeited the probity of years — how
sad must have been his reflections when, to use his own
expressive words, he " agonized on," when he thought
that he should transmit to his children nothing but the
heritage of a blasted name, and that those children
would have an up-hill struggle all the way through life,
their own blamelessness being a small matter against
the terrible opprobrium of their father's misdoings. He
who continues in the feast until wine inflames him, im-
agines that he can tread without danger upon the giddy
verge over which multitudes have fallen ; but, by little
and little, he cherishes the unappeasable thirst for drink

64 MEMORIES O* THE WAY.

until it becomes a morbid physical malady, and, frantic
and despairing, he rushes down into the drunkard's
grave. That youth who, at the solicitation of some gay
companion, ventures, for the first time, into the foul hell
of a gaming-house, and who joins in the perilous hazard,
would scoff at the prophet who should tell him that, a
few years hence, a gambler and a spendthrift, he should
live in poverty and die in shame. That young man
who, to gain funds, perhaps, for the Sunday excursion,
or for the night's debauch, took the money from his
master's till with the conscientious intention of replac-
ing it at the time of the quarterly supply, little thought
that that deceitful heart of his would land him in a
felon's dock, or, upon the deck of the transport ship,
waft him to a returnless distance from his country and
his home. Brethren, from a thousand causes of disaster
and of shame with which our experience can furnish us,
and which we read in the history of every-day life, it
becomes us, with godly jealousy watching over our own
hearts, to guard against the beginnings of evil ; and as
we think of blighted reputations and of ruined hopes —
of many once fair, and innocent, and scrupulous, and
promising as we — as we gaze upon the wreck of many
a gallant vessel stranded by our side, which we saw
steaming out of the harbor with stately pennons — let us
remember that in us there are the same tendencies to
evil, that it is grace — only grace — which hath made us
to differ, and that each instance of calamity and of sin,
while it evokes our pity — not our scorn — for those that

MEMORIES OF THE WAY. 65

have so grievously erred, should proclaim in solemn ad-
monition to ourselves, "Let him that thinketh he
standeth take heed lest he fall." " To know what is in
thine heart, whether thou wouldest keep his command-
ments or no."

III. If you have thus travelled in the way that you
have trodden, there will be many uses of the memory
which we cannot stay to particularize to-day. You will
know more of God at the conclusion of your visit than
you did at the commencement. You will behold in the
way both the goodness and the severity of God — the
severity which punishes sin wherever it is to be found,
the goodness which itself provides a substitute and finds
a Saviour. Where do you not find him, rather ? There
was the stream gushing forth from the smitten rock —
was there not ? — and the perishing and thirsty Israelites
were happy. "They drank of the rock that followed
them, and that rock was Christ." There was the brazen
serpent, the symbol of accepted propitiation in the wil-
derness of sin. " As Moses lifted up the serpent in the
wilderness, even so hath the Son of Man been lifted up,
that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but
should have everlasting life." Oh, as you gather up
those memories — the memory of joy, the memory of
sorrow, the memory of sin — as you remember the good-
ness and the loving kindness of the Lord, his faithful-
ness to fulfill his promises, his tenderness, which your
repeated rebellions have not caused to fail — gather up
yourselves in one earnest consecration of flesh and

66 MEMORIES OF THE WAT.

spirit^ which I take to be the best consecration of the
house which you now dedicate to God — living temples,
pillars in the house of God, that shall go out no more
forever.

II.

THE BELIE VEE'S SUFFICIENCY.

" Not that we are sufficient of ourselves to think anything as of our-
selves ; but our sufficiency is of God." — 2 Corinthians, iii. 5.

The promise contained in these words is one of the
most encouraging and one of the most comprehensive
in the Bible. It is the essence of all Christian expe-
rience ; it is the moral which the Scriptures continually
inculcate, and it stands in the heraldry of heaven as the
motto on the believer's arms. The all-sufficiency of
God has been the support and comfort of the faithful in
all ages of the Church. On this rock Abraham built
his hope ; to this refuge in all times of trial the sweet
Singer of Israel fled; by this confidence the great
Apostle of the Gentiles was constantly and persever-
ingly upheld. The all-sufficiency of God gives strength
to patience, gives solidity to hope, gives constancy to
endurance, gives nerve and vitality to effort. The
weakest believer, with this great treasure in possession,
is enabled to go steadily forward, sacrificing no duty,
resisting all sin ; and, amidst every horror and every
humiliation, feeling within him the still, clear light of

67

63

life. To this the most eminent saints are indebted for
all they enjoy, for all they are enabled to perform ; and
though assailed by various foes without, and by various
fears within, by this they can return from every con-
flict, bearing the spoils of victory ; and as with the
trophies of their triumph they erect the grateful Ebene-
zer, you may see this inscription written upon them all :
" Having obtained help of God, we continue unto this
day," feeling most deeply the impotency of the nature
they inherit, and penetrated with the sense of the diffi-
culties by which they are surrounded. When faith
is in exercise, they point to this as a never-fail-
ing source of strength ; and in the course of their
untried and unswerving pilgrimage, this is their lan-
guage : " Let the wise man, if he will be so foolish,
trust in his wisdom ; let the rich man glory in his
wealth ; let the proud man vaunt his own dignity ; let
the trifler make the world his defence; we dare not
trust to such refuges of lies, we dare not build upon
foundations that are palpably insecure. We feel our
own nothingness ; but we feel our own might, because
our sufficiency is of God.

From the commencement of the chapter out of which
these words are taken, we learn that the same exclu-
siveness of spirit existed in the days of Paul which
exists in certain quarters now, and that the same charge
— that of false apostleship — was brought against him
that has since been so plentifully flung at eminent
ministers of Jesus Christ. It is no small consolation to

THE BELIEVER'S SUFFICIENCY. 69

find that we are thus unchurched in good company.
The apostle, however, answers the accusation just as
any man would do, who had no particular interest to
serve in surrounding a great question with a crowd of
arguments anything but luminous — he appeals to the
Church amongst whom he had labored, and asks their
verdict as to his success as a minister : " Do we begin
again to commend ourselves, or need we, as some
others, epistles of commendation to you, or letters of
commendation from you ? Ye are our epistle [your
changed hearts, your holy lives, your transformed affec-
tions, your heavenly deportment — ye are our epistles]
written in our hearts, known and read of all men : for-
asmuch as ye are manifestly declared to be the epistle
of Christ ministered by us, written not with ink [nor
anything so fading], but with the Spirit of the living
God ; not in tables of stone [nor anything so hard], but
in fleshy tables of the heart ; and suclj trust have we
through Christ to Godward ;" then, so anxious is he
even in this moment of his triumphant vindication to
avoid all appearance of boasting, that he puts in a great
disclaimer : " not that we are sufficient of ourselves to
think anything of ourselves ; all that, whether in us as
subjects or by us as the instruments, has been done by
the sovereign power of God, who also hath made us
able ministers of the "New Testament, not of the letter,
but of the Spirit ; for the letter killeth, but the Spirit
giveth life." The Apostle in these verses unfolds the
great secret both of ministerial call and of ministerial

70 THE EELIEVEIi's SUFFICIENCY.

efficiency. It is God, not man, that makes, not finds,
a"ble ministers of the ]STew Testament. The tones of his
voice are heard, saying to them, " Son, go work to-day
in my vineyard." And it is a remarkable fact, one
which we should never forget, that this voice is never
heard in a heart where there is no faith ; consequently,
the prime qualification for a minister of the Christian
religion is the heart that has been melted by its love,
and a consciousness which has felt it in its power.
Without this, all else is unavailing ; the attainment of
the most profound and extensive knowledge, the grasp
of the loftiest and most scholarly intellect, the posses-
sion of the most commanding eloquence, the treasures
of the most imperial fancy, the research of the most
accomplished scholar, all these are useless, worse than
useless, if they be not consecrated by the Spirit of the
Holy One ; only the trappings that decorate the traitor,
and make his treason yet the fouler ; only the weapons
of more imminent danger, and the portents of more
terrific and appalling ruin. The most distinguished
minister within the compass of the Catholic Church,
however eminent he may be, however signally his
labors have been blessed, has reason to remember,
every moment of his ministerial career, "I am nothing,
less than nothing; but my sufficiency is of God." The
comfortable and scriptural doctrine contained in the
text is not more true of ministers, of whom it was
immediately spoken, than of Christians in general, to
whom it may be properly applied. The station is

THE BELIEVER'S SUFFICIENCY. 71

different, the strength is the same. Your suffi-
ciency, as well as ours, is of God. To take the
words in this extended sense, we may find in them
matter of profitable meditation, by considering first
the nature of this sufficiency and then the authority
which believers have to expect this sufficiency for
themselves.

I. First, the sufficiency of God may be considered
either as proper, or communicated. By his essential, or
proper sufficiency, we mean that he is self-existent, self-
sufficient, independently happy ; angels and men may
declare that they cannot increase his glory ; it is eter-
nal, underived, perfect. He has said that he will never
give it to another. There was no necessity in his
nature impelling him to create the universe ; he could
have existed alone, and he did exist alone, long be-
fore the everlasting silence was broken by a human
footstep, or interrupted by a human .voice ; and that
Divine solitude was the solitude of matchless happiness.
The best praises, therefore, the most extensive services
of his worshippers, are but reflections of the glory
which dwells originally in himself. But it is of the
sufficiency of God in relation to his creatures that it is
our province especially to speak. And it is in this
sense God is good to all, and his tender mercies are
over all his works.

1. He is sufficient, in the first place — let us take low
ground first— for the preservation of the universe which
his hands have made. From the sublime account

72 the believer's sufficiency.

which the Scriptures give us of creation, we learn that
the heavens were made by him, and all the host of
them by the breath of his mouth ; and as we know that
nothing earthly has within it the power to sustain itself,
we are further assured that he upholdeth all things by
the same word of his power. It is by this ever-breath-
ing word, constantly in exercise, that the sun shines,
that the moon walks in brightness, that the stars pursue
their courses in the sky ; the clouds are marshalled by
his Divine decree, and when he uttereth his voice there
is a multitude of waters in the heavens. Reason looks
at this systematic and continuous regularity, and
admires it, and refers it to the operation of second
causes, and argues very philosophically about the
nature and fitness of things ; but piety looks through
the complications of the mechanism to the hand that
formed it. The universe is to her but one vast trans-
parency, through which she can gaze on God ; her
pathway and her communion are on the high places of
creation, and there, far above all secondary and sub-
ordinate agencies, she discovers the hiding of his power.
The symmetry of nature is to her more beautiful,
because God has produced it. The deep harmonies of
the systems come more tunefully upon her ear because
the hand of the Lord has awakened them.

"What though no real voice nor sound
Amid the radiant orbs be found?
In faith's quick ear they all rejoice,
And utter forth a noble voice,

73

For ever singing as they shine,

' The hand that made us is Divine.' "

And what a contemplation does this open to us of the
majesty and power of God! Who can understand it?
The planets are kept in their orbits, and the seasons
continually alternate. Old Ocean dashes himself upon
the shore, and every day finds " hitherto " written upon
the sand, and the mad surge respects it. The earth
yields her increase ; vegetable life is evolved ; circula-
tion takes place throughout the animal system ; man
walks and lives, and all these diversified operations are
produced at one and the same moment, perpetuated
from one moment to another by the simple word of
God. Extend your conceptions still further ; take hold
of the far-reaching discoveries of astronomy. Glance
at the numberless suns and systems that are scattered
in the broad field of immensity, and remember (for
there is no Scripture against it, and probabilities are
strongly in favor of the opinion), that they are all in-
habited by dependent creatures somewhat like our-
selves. Glance at the almost infinite variety of exist-
ences with which we are acquainted — whether we walk
the earth, or cleave the air, or swim the sea — connect
with all these the Scriptural announcement that these
are but parts of his ways, and how little a portion is
known of them ; and then how thought shrinks from
the aggregate ! how the brain recoils from the contem-
plation of the sum ! and we may well finish the quota-
tion, and say, "The thunder of his power, who can

4

understand?" All our reasonings npon the subject
only serve to demonstrate that man by searching can-
not find out God. Could you, with the swiftness of a
sunbeam, dart yourselves beyond the limits of the
known creation, and for ages upon ages continue your
pilgrimage in infinite space, you would never — who can
grasp that thought ? it is too large for us — never be able
to reach a place where God is not, never light upon a
spot where this glorious Being is not essentially and
influentially present. The whole universe is one vast
laboratory of benevolent art, over every department of
which the Deity presides — a sanctuary, every part of
which the Divinity inhabits — a circle, whose circumfe-
rence is unfathomed, and whose every section is filled
with God. But I stop here just for a moment, to re-
mind you of the thrill that comes through the heart of
the believer, when, after this exhibition of boundless
and colossal power, he can go home, singing—

" This all-sufficient God is ours,
Our Father, and our love/'

Our sufficiency is of God.

2. Then, secondly, and chiefly, he is sufficient /br the
preservation and for the perpetuity of the Gospel plan,
in the salvation and idtimate happiness of every indi-
vidual believer. Christianity is not to be viewed by us
merely as a moral system-; that were to place it on a
level with the speculations of Confucius, and Socrates,
and others. It is something more, it is a course of

75

Divine operations. We are not to regard it as a mere
ethical statement of- doctrine made known to us by a
bundle of books ; we must remember the Divine
agency always, by which it is conducted and inspired.
We observed before, that no mere man has the power
to produce an abiding change upon the hearts of his
hearers. Human eloquence is a mighty thing, I know ;
human reason is a persuasive and powerful thing, I
know ; under certain favorable conjunctures of circum-
stances, they have sometimes achieved mighty results.
They can shame a Herod, they can make a Felix trem-
ble, they can almost persuade an Agrippa to become a
Christian, but they can do no more. I know that im-
mense multitudes have been swayed by the power of a
single tongue. The passions have become excited,
either to madness or to sympathy, either to deeds of
lawless aggression, or to deeds of high emprise; but
then there is only a transient mastery obtained. We
read of a harp in the classical fables of old, which,
when the winds swept it, was said to discourse sweet
strains ; but then, unhappily, the breeze and the music
died away together. So it is with, the triumph of the
orator : the moment the voice of the speaker ceases the
spell is broken, the charm is dissipated; reflection
begins to remonstrate against excitement, and the whole
affair is forgotten, or comes upon the soul- only as the
memory of some pleasant song. Nay, truth, celestial
truth, can produce no abiding change. Pardon and
sanctification are not the necessary consequences of

76 the believer's sufficiency.

statements of doctrine. Scripture cannot produce
them ; the truth may appear in all its cogency and in
all its power before the mind — it may appear so clear
as to extort an acquiescence in what it propounds ; bnt
it is uninfluential ; it lacks energy, and it lacks a self-
appliant power. It may enlighten — that is its province
— it can never save. "Without the Spirit it is useless ;
let the Spirit animate it, and it is the power of God.
Hearers who sit under the ministrations of the truth
without the Spirit may be likened to a man standing
upon the brow of a hill which commands the prospect
of an extensive landscape. The varied beauties of flood
and of field are before him ; nature is clad in her richest
livery, there is every variety calculated to interest and
to inspire ; rugged rocks frown as if they would keep
sentinel over the sleeping valley ; the earth yields her
increase, the crystal streamlet leaps merrily along, im-
pressions of the beautiful are everywhere visible, there
is just one drawback to the picture, and that one draw-
back is, that the man who stands upon the summit of
the hill is blind. That is precisely the state of the case
in reference to truth in the Bible. It is there in all its
grandeur, but the man has no eyes to see it. Let the
Spirit come and take the scales away and shred off the
spiritual ophthalmia, and he sees the landscape stretch-
ing before him in all its hues of beauty, and his soul is
elevated and he feels the full rapture of the scene.
Prevailing truth, therefore, is not of the letter but of
the Spirit, for " the letter killeth, but the Spirit giveth

77

life." This Spirit it is that is promised for the carrying
out of the Gospel, and it therefore must be successful.
I know there is a good deal of difficulty about his mode
of procedure : God's word must be fulfilled, that is one
thing ; man's freedom must be maintained, that is
another thing. Man is a moral agent; God has en-
dued him with talents and invested him with an im-
mense delegation of power, and in the distribution of
these talents -and in the exercise of that power, he has
said, in effect, Let him alone ; he may do as he lists —
just as he lists. He is allowed, for the present, to act
as if he had no superior, but for all he is holden finally
most strictly responsible. But no coercion is applied,
no force is ever in any conceivable instance made use
of. One of our most eloquent senators once said, that
an Englishman's cottage was his castle. The winds
may whistle through every crevice, and the rains pene-
trate through every cranny, but into that cottage the
monarch of England dare not enter against the cotter's
will. That is just the state of the case between Christ
and the human soul. He has such a respect for the
will of that immortal tenant that he has placed within
us, that he will never force an entrance. He will do
everything else ; he will knock at the door —

" He now stands knocking at the door
Of every sinner's heart ;
The worst need keep him out no more,
Nor force him to depart."

But he will not force an entrance. Often, disappointed

78

and grieved, he turns away from those whom he would
fain have enriched and saved, saying, "Ye will not
come unto me, that ye may have life." But notwith-
standing all this formidable opposition, the Gospel, as
the administration of God's truth, backed by the energy
of the Holy Spirit, shall finally triumph. TVxe can con-
ceive of no enemies more subtle, more malignant, more
powerful than those which it has already encountered
and vanquished. Memory cheers us onward and bids
hope to smile. God is with the Gospel ; that is the
great secret. She does not trust in her inherent energy ;
she does not trust in her exquisite adaptation to man's
every necessity and peril ; she does not trust in the in-
defatigable and self-denying labors of her ministers ;
God is with the Gospel, and under his guidance she
shall march triumphantly forward, subjugating every
enemy, acquiring a lodgment in every heart, reclaim-
ing the world unto herself, until she has consummated
her victory in the ecstasies of a renovated universe, and
in that deep and solemn moment when the Son, who
gave his life a ransom for al], shall see of the travail of
his soul and be abundantly satisfied. O brethren ! what
a comfortable doctrine is this ! If this Gospel is to be
conducted from step to step in its progressive march to
conquest, do you not see how it guarantees individual
salvation and individual defence by the way?

Where art thou in the chapel to-night (would that
1 could discover thee !) timid and discouraged believer
who art afraid of the fatigues of climbing the Hill

THE BELIEVER'S SUFFICIENCY. 79

Difficulty, and croucliest back abashed and cowering
at sight of the lions in front of the Palace Beautiful ?
Lift up thy head, be not discouraged ; thy sufficiency
is of God. What frightens thee ? Affliction ? God is
thy help. Persecution ? God is thy crown. Perplex-
ity ? God is thy counsel. Death ? God is thy ever-
lasting life. Only trust in God, and all shall be well.
Life shall glide thee into death, and death shall glide
thee into heaven. " Who (asks the exulting Apostle,
in the 8th of Komans), who shall separate us from the
love of Christ ? Shall tribulation, or distress, or famine,
or nakedness, or peril, or sword?" That is rather a
dark catalogue ; but mark how the Apostle answers it :
" Nay, in all these things we are more than conquer-
ors." It is not a drawn battle ; night does not come
on to separate the combatants ; we have not to send a
herald, as they used to do in ancient warfare, to ask
permission to bury our dead ; we do not come from the
field with the dishonored banner trailing in the dust,
and the armor hacked, scarred with the wounds we
have gotten in the fight. " We are more than con-
querors." Oh, the royalty of that language! — "more
than conquerors, through him that hath loved us. For
I am persuaded that neither death" — he puts that first,
because it generally threatens believers most — " neither
life," which is really a more solemn and a more peril-
ous thing than death, rightly considered — "neither
death, nor life, nor angels" — if any of them should for-
get themselves so far as to come and preach another

80

Gospel and try to deceive the very ele6t — "neither
principalities nor powers " — for although the captain
of the hosts of darkness may plant all his most for-
midable battery against us, he cannot shake the pali-
sades of strong salvation, nor snatch away a solitary
sheep from the fold of the great Shepherd. " No, nor
things present" — though those things present may in-
clude famine, nakedness, peril, and sword — "no, nor
things to come" — though, in those things to come,
there may be an originality of diabolism never dreamed
of yet — " and no creature" — nothing but sin, and that
is not a creature, that is a foul excrescence, a vile abor-
tion upon the universe of God — keep clear of that — and
"no creature shall be able to separate you from the
love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord." Oh,
the blessedness, the ineffable blessedness of being in
the love of God ! The blessedness of an approving
conscience, the blessedness of increasing knowledge,
the blessedness of complete victory, the blessedness of
Gospel peace, the blessedness of perfect love ! I do
not know what that sea of glass means about which we
read in the Revelation ; I do not pretend to an intimate
acquaintance with Apocalyptic disclosures ; but I know
nothing that can better image the deep, serene, repos-
ing, kingly rapture of the spirit that has finished its
course with joy. It is a sea of glass ; it hath no bil-
lows; not a breath ever, by any possibility, ruffles it.
And on this sea of glass, as on a wide and waveless
ocean, the believer stands forever, chanting eternally

81

the song of Moses and the Lamb. Oh, lift up your
heads and come back to Zion with singing, and let this
be the burden of your song :

11 Let doubt, then, and danger my progress oppose,
They only make heaven more sweet at the close ;
Afflictions may damp me, they cannot destroy,
For one glimpse of His love turns them all into joy.
And come joy, or come sorrow, whate'er may befall,
One hour with my God will make up for it all."

It were very little use our talking in this strain to
you, if you were to find out, after all, that it was some
aristocratical blessing, some privilege reserved only for
the peerage of the faithful, for the favored ones in the
family of the King of kings.

II. I come, secondly, to notice the authority which

BELIEVERS HAVE TO EXPECT THIS SUFFICIENCY FOR THEM-
SELVES. And, very briefly, we have a right to expect
it, because it is found and promised in the Bible.
Every believer, the moment he becomes a believer,
becomes an inheritor of the promises. The Bible is
not my Bible, nor your Bible — it is our Bible. It is
common property ; it belongs to the universal Church.
We have no sympathy, of course, with those who
would monopolize this sacred treasure, and keep this
light of the Gospel burning, and that, with a precious
dimness, only in the study of the priest, or fettered, as
it used to be, like a curiosity, to the altars of the
Church. Thank God, these days of darkness are for-

82 the believer's sufficiency.

ever gone by. And yet there is a Church, somewhere,
professedly Christian, which denies to its members the
light and comfort of the Bible, in direct opposition to
the command of Him who has said to every one,
" Search the Scriptures," thus most absolutely exalting
itself against all that is called God. Oh, most foul
corruption ! Deprive us of the Bible ! As well forbid
us to gaze on the jewelled sky, or to be fanned by the
winged and searching air. Deprive us of the Bible !
Call it sin for us to look at the sun, and to bask in the
blaze of his enlivening beams. The very same hand
which launched yon orb upon his ocean of light, and
bade him shine upon the evil and upon the good, has
sent this orb into the world, and has sent it on purpose
that it may be a lamp to all our feet and a lantern to
all our paths. We devoutly thank the good Spirit of
the Lord, that he put into the minds of our forefathers
to protest against so flagrant and monstrous an im-
piety ; and, thank God, we are Protest-ants still. We
cannot afford to be thus robbed of our birthright, to
be thus cheated out of our inheritance, to be thus
basely swindled out of the possession of the Book of
God. It is the legacy of the Apostles' labor ; the bul-
wark of the confessors' faith ; the purchase of the mar-
tyrs' blood. Thank God for the Bible. Let us prove
that we love it, by drawing from it all the comfort and
blessing, and guidance, and warning, which its heaven-
inspired pages are calculated to afford. "Well, we have
a right, each of us — if we are in Christ — we have a

THE BELIEVER'S SUFFICIENCY. 83

right to expect this sufficiency, because it is promised
in the Bible. We gather it from the declarations of
Scripture. Listen to them, they are yours : " Thus
saith the Lord who created thee, O Jacob, who formed
thee, O Israel, Fear not, I have redeemed thee, I have
called thee by thy name" "What a beautiful thought
that is ! Just get the meaning and beauty out of it.
How many thousands of believers, thousands upon
thousands of believers, have there been in the world
from the beginning of its history until now — thousands
in the patriarchal ages who looked through the glass,
and who saw, dimly, the streak of the morning in the
distance, and, even with that streak of light, were glad
— thousands, in the prophetical times, who discerned it
in the brightness of a nearer vision — thousands who
basked in its full-orbed lustre, when Christ came into
the world — thousands upon thousands, since that time,
who have washed their robes and made them white in
the blood of the Lamb — thousands, who are now upon
the earth, working out their salvation with fear and
trembling — thousands upon thousands that shall come
into the Church in the time of its millennial glory,
when the gates of it shall not be shut day nor night,
because the porter shall have no chance of shutting
them, the people crowd in so fast. Now, get all that
mass of believers, past, present, and future, a company
that no man can number ; and to each of them God
comes in this promise, and says, "I have called thee
by thy name, I know all about thee' — that is, I have

84 the believer's sufficiency.

not a merely vague, indefinite knowledge of thee ; as
an individual believer I know thy name, I could single
thee out of millions, I could tell the world all thy soli-
citudes, and all thy apprehensions, and all thy hopes,
and all thy sorrows — "I have called thee by thy name."
Oh, precious promise ! Take it to your hearts. " I
have called thee by thy name ; thou art mine ; when
thou passest through the waters I will be with thee ;
and through the rivers" — deeper than the waters —
" they shall not overflow thee. When thou walkest
through the fire thou shalt not be burned, neither shall
the flames kindle upon thee." Listen again : " The
Lord God is a sun and a shield" — light and protection ;
that nearly embraces all our wants — "he will give
grace and glory." Is there anything left out? And
if there are any of you so perversely clever and so mis-
chievously ingenious in multiplying arguments in favor
of your own despair, that you can conceive of some
rare and precious blessing that is not wrapped up
either in grace or glory — " ISTo good thing will he
withhold from them that walk uprightly." "Fear
not, for I am with thee ; be not dismayed, for I am
thy God." "Cast all thy care"— " Nay," the rebel
heart says, "there is some little of it I must bear
myself; something that has reference to the heart's
bitterness, that it alone knoweth ; or to the heart's
deep, dark sorrow, with which no stranger intermed-
dles— that I must bear myself." " Cast all thy care
upon me, for I care for thee." What ! distrustful still ?

85

Can you not take God at his word ? Hark ! lie con-
descends to expostulate with you upon your unbelief :
"Why sayest thou, O Jacob, and speakest, O Israel,
my way is hid from the Lord" — how often have you
said that in the time of your sorrow ! you know you
have — " my way is hid from the Lord, my judgment
is passed over from my God. Hast thou not known,
hast thou not heard, that the everlasting God, the
Lord, the Creator of the ends of the earth, faint eth not,
neither is weary? There is no searching of his under-
standing. He giveth power to the faint." He does
not merely take his swoon away and leave him weakly,
he makes him strong. " He giveth power to the faint ;
and to them that have no might he increaseth strength."
Are you still dissatisfied ?

The God who knows human nature, knows how much
better a teacher example is than precept, and so, spark-
ling upon the pages of his holy truth, he has left us
many bright instances of his interposition on behalf of
his saints. Abraham rises early in the morning, goes a
three days' journey with the son of his love, intending
all the while, with set and resolute purpose, to offer him
in sacrifice to the God of heaven. Arrived at the place
of their destination, all the ritual preparations are made:
the altar is prepared ; the willing victim, unresisting, is
bound ; the sacrificial knife is lifted ; no escape, then,
surely ! But man's extremity is God's opportunity, and
the ram is caught in the thicket by its horns, and God's
grace is sufficient — none too much — but sufficient still.

86

The children of Israel are brought to the borders of the
Red Sea, hotly pursued by the flower of the Egyptian
army ; the troops are close upon them in the rear ; the
Red Sea stretches before them — the inaccessible hills of
Baal-Zephon tower on the right hand and on the left.
What are they to do ? There seems no possible chance
of escape. Oh ! what are the laws of gravitation when
the Lord works for his people 1 He who made them can
alter them at pleasure. The waters erect themselves on
either hand, and the bed of the ocean is their triumphal
pathway. God's grace is sufficient still. Xehemiah.
like a true-hearted patriot as he was, set to work to
rebuild the dilapidated walls of Jerusalem. But he
began, like some of his successors, in troublous times ;
Sanbailat and Tobiah came to fight against the workmen ;
they were so hard beset, that they had to work with
sword in the one hand and trowel in the other ; God's
grace was sufficient, and the second Jerusalem rose up
in majesty upon the site of the ruins of the first.
"What ! not satisfied yet ? Surely that must be an
almost invincible unbelief that these instances will not
overcome. What is it you say ? " Oh, but these are
all instances taken from the Old Testament times ; the
age of miracles is over now — we are not now to expect
such interpositions on behalf of God's people." Well,
let us try again. Come out of the light of Scripture a
little into the light of common life. Tread softly, as you
enter that house, for it is a house of mourning ; a large
family surround the bedside of a dying parent ; that

8T

parent is a Christian, and knowing in whom he has
believed, he is not afraid to die. But he has a large
family, and the thought that he shall leave them with-
out a protector, the thought of the forcible disruption
of all social ties, presses upon his spirit, and when you
look at him, there is a shade of sadness upon his coun-
tenance ; but you gaze awhile, and you see that sadness
chased away by a smile. What has wrought the
change 1 What ? Why, a ministering angel whispered
to him : " Leave thy fatherless children; I will preserve
them alive." He hails the promiser. Faith cries out :
" It is he, it is he ; my God is present here." He
enjoys rapt and high communion with celestial visit-
ants, and thus that chamber of death becomes the gate
of heaven. You pass by that house next morning : the
half-closed shutter and the drawn blind tell you that he
was and is not. You enter — the widow is sitting in sor-
row ; the first deep pang is scarcely over. The tones
of her husband's voice, with which she has so long been
familiar, rush, in all the freshness of yesterday, upon
her soul, and she is worn with weeping. But she, too,
is a Christian, and she flies to the Christian's refuge, and
her eye traces those comfortable words : u Thy Maker
is thine husband — the Lord of Hosts is his name." It is
a dark hour ; it has been a dark day ; and the darkness
has gathered, and settled, and deepened as the day wore
on, and now at eventide there is soft and brilliant light,
because her sufficiency is of God. You pass by the
house again when about a week has elapsed. The last

88 the believer's sufficiency.

sad rites have been performed ; the funeral bell, with its
suppressed and heavy summons, sounding like the
dividing asunder of soul and body, has tolled ; the very
clay of her husband has been torn from her embrace.
He has died in somewhat straitened circumstances ; he
was the sole dependence of the family, and, with aching-
head and throbbing heart, she sits down to calculate
about her future subsistence ; her heart begins to fail
her, but, before she gives way to despair, she consults a
friend ; he is a wise man, one upon whom the influences
of the Holy Spirit have operated long ; and he gives
her the testimony of a long life of experience : " I have
been young, and now am old, yet I have not seen the
righteous forsaken, nor his seed begging bread." Dash-
ing away the tears that had blinded her, she struggles
and labors on, and feels that though it is her darkest
hour, her sufficiency is still of God. That is no uncom-
mon case ; I have not drawn largely upon the extrava-
gance of an imaginative fancy to bring it out. I could
go into many of our sanctuaries and bid you listen to
one, as wTith a glad heart and free, he sings the con-
verted sinner's anthem : "O Lord, I will praise thee ;
thou wast angry wTith me, but thine anger is turned
away, and now thou comfortest me." Then I could bid
you listen to the experience of another, but faltering
and low, for he is just recovering from recent illness :
" I was brought low, and he helped me ; he saved me
even from the gates of death." And then we could
point you to a third, and say : " This poor man cried.

89

and the Lord heard him, and saved him out of all his
troubles." And where are the damnatory clauses that
forbid you to partake of these blessings ? "What statute
of limitations is there that bars you from the enjoyment
of this great and gracious heritage ? Brethren, are you
in Christ? Then all that belongs to the covenant is
yours. Yours is the present heritage, yours is the future
recompense of reward.

" Our sufficiency is of God." Is it so ? Then you
will be sustained in trial ; you won't succumb to its
power ; it won't over-master you ; you will regard it as
sent of God, intended to work lessons and changes of
some providential discipline within you. You will be
grateful for it ; you will know that when it comes,
although it looks harsh and repulsive outside, you have
entertained angels unawares, you will find after it has
gone away. Oh ! we learn many lessons when the
head is low, that we do not learn in the heyday of pros-
perity and blessing. Just as it is in the natural world :
you know when the sun is set, the stars come out in
their placid beauty, and

" Darkness shows us worlds of light
We never saw by day ;"

and we should never have known they were there if the
darkness had not come. So in the night of God's pro-
vidential dispensations, the stars of the great promises
come shining out, broad and bright upon the soul ; and
we rejoice in their light and go on our way rejoicing.

90

Or, changing the figure, in the glad summer-time, when
the leaves are on the trees, we go out, such of us as can
get into the country — we go out into the thick woods
and walk under the trees in shadow, and their branches
interlace above us, and the leaves are green and glossy,
and so thick above that we cannot see the sky through ;
and then we forget that there is another world, and our
hearts are revelling in all pleasure and all blessedness
of this. But when the blasts of winter come and scatter
the leaves down, then the light of heaven comes in
between, and we remember that here we have no
continuing city, and are urged to seek one that is to
come. Oh ! take hold of God's sufficiency then, and
go bravely to the meeting of trial, and you will find
that trial,

" God's alchemist old,
Purges off the dross and mold
And leaves us rich with gems and gold."

Is your sufficiency of God ? Then it will animate you
to duty. Listen to this confession of weakness : " Unto
me, who am less than the least of all saints, is this grace
given." Less than the least ! "What a pressure of weak-
ness there must have been upon that soul ! Listen to
this exulting consciousness of power: "I can do all
things through Christ that strengtheneth me." They
are the antipodes of sentiment — are they not ? Weak-
ness the most helpless and feeble — power the most
exultant and proud; and yet that confession of weak-
ness, and that exulting consciousness of power, were the

THE BELIEVERS SUFFICIENCY. 91

utterance of the same lips, and the expression of the
experience of the same individual. What made the
difference? In the one case he relied upon his own re-
sources ; in the other, he took hold of the sufficiency of
God. Take hold of the sufficiency of Gocl, and nothing
will be able to resist you ; you will go forward strong
in the Lord, and in the power of his might, overcoming
sin and overcoming evil in its every form, and planting
for yourself and for your Master an heritage of blessing
in this world and in that which is to come.

a Our sufficiency is of God." Is there a poor strag-
gling sinner that is rejoicing to think that the minister
has forgotten him, and that while he has been endeavor-
ing to bring out all the heart of the text — privilege and
promise exceeding great and precious, for the benefit of
believers — no word of warning can be extracted out of
it for those that are yet ungodly? Wait a little.
What is the lesson you are to learn from the sub-
ject? Just this: that there is a sufficiency in God to
punish. All his attributes must be equally perfect.
He must be just, as well as the free and generous
justiiier of him that believeth in Jesus. Oh, I beseech
you, tempt not against yourselves that wrath which
needs only to be kindled in order to burn unto the
lowest hell. "Kiss the Son, lest he be angry, and
ye perish from the way." Perish out of the way —
just as men fling away any obstacle or hindrance that
interrupts their progress, so shall God fling the wicked
out of his way. u E~iss the Son, lest he be angry, and

92

ye perish from the way, when his wrath is kindled but
a little. But a little — oh, it will need but a little kin-
dling to doom you to the perdition of hell. Brethren,
you need not perish : there is a sufficiency, thank God !
there is a sufficiency in Christ to save. Our sufficiency
is of God. And with this promise that I fling forth
into the midst of you, and pray that God would bind it
as a spell of sweet enchantment on your souls, I close
my words to-night : " Wherefore he is able to save unto
the uttermost" — to the uttermost of human guilt — to
the uttermost of human life — to the uttermost of human
time. May God save your souls, for the Redeemer's
sake!

III.

THE MISSION OF THE PULPIT.

" Therefore seeing we have this ministry, as we have received mercy,
we faint not ; but have renounced the hidden things of dishonesty, not
walking in craftiness, nor handling the word of God deceitfully ; but by
manifestation of the truth commending ourselves to every man's con-
science in the sight of God." — 2 Cor. iv. 1, 2.

This is the Apostle's recorded judgment as to the
mission of the ministry which he had received of the
Lord Jesus, and the duties of which he discharged with
such singular fidelity and zeal. In the preceding chap-
ter, he magnifies its superiority alike of glory and of
substantial usefulness over the dispensation of the law,
and then in a few weighty words separates himself en-
tirely from all false teachers, and establishes himself,
upon the ground of holy character and exalted office, as
Heaven's high remembrancer among the nations — a
true witness for God amidst a dark and alien world.
He takes care, at the very outset, to assure those to
whom he speaks, that he is of the same nature, and
originally of the same sinfulness, as themselves : " There-
fore seeing that we have received this ministry, as we
have received mercy, we faint not." We are not — as if

94 THE MISSION OF THE PULPIT.

he had said — a distinct order of beings: there is no
natural superiority of character which might make the
minister proud, or which might make the hearer distant,
and callous, and unsympathizing. TTe once were sin-
ners ; we have yet the memory of bondage ; we have
received mercy, and are anxious to tell to others the
tidings that have led to our redemption. As Ave have
received mercy we faint not, but have renounced the
hidden things of dishonesty, the secret immoralities of
pagan priests ; not walking in craftiness, not retaining
our hold upon the consciences of men by deceivableness
of unrighteousness, and by juggling, lying wonders ; not
handling the Word of God deceitfully, not preaching an
adulterated truth or a flexible Gospel ; not pliant to the
prejudices, or silent to the vices of those who hear us;
" but, by manifestation of the truth, commending our-
selves to every man's conscience in the sight of God."

All this, affirmed by the Apostle of the ministry of
olden time, may be affirmed of the ministry of recon-
ciliation now. That ministry, wickedly maligned on
the one hand, imperfectly fulfilled on the other hand,
has yet its mission to the world. The unrepealed com-
mand still stands upon the statute-book : " Go ye into
all the world, and preach the Gospel unto every crea-
ture." And it is a prayer often earnestly and passion-
ately uttered by those on whom its obligations have
fallen, that, repudiating artifice and idleness, they may,
by manifestation of the truth, commend themselves to
every man's conscience in the sight of God. I purpose.

THE MISSION OF THE PULPIT. 95

God helping me, briefly to notice from these words — in
tlie first place, the business of the ministry ; secondly,
the instrumentality which it employs ; and thirdly, the
thought that hallows it.

I. The ministry — this is my first position — has a busi-
ness with the world. It is the Divinely-appointed
agency for the communication of God's will to man.
As a Divine institution it advanced its claims in the
beginning, and in no solitary instance have they been
relinquished since. This Divine authorization and en-
actment are still in force. The Bible says, when Christ-
ascended np on high, "he led captivity captive, and
received gifts for men ; and he gave some apostles, and
some prophets, and some evangelists, and some pastors
and teachers, for the perfecting of the saints, for the
work of the ministry, for the edifying of the body of
Christ." There might be something special, perhaps, in
this original commission, but the principle of its Divine
origin is evidently presented as the principle of the
ministry itself; for St. Paul, who was not then called,
who speaks of himself afterward as one born out of due
time, earnestly and anxiously vindicates the Heavenly
origin of his apostleship : " I certify you, brethren, that
the Gospel which was preached of me is not of men ; for
I neither received it of men, neither was I taught it but
by the revelation of Jesus Christ." This it is which is
the elevation of the Christian ministry, which exalts it
far above human resources and human authority. It
travels on in its own majestic strength — Heaven-inspired

96 THE MISSION OF THE PULPIT.

and heaven-sustained. Moreover, the same passage
which tells us of the institution of the ministry an-
nounces its duration, and tells of the period when it
shall be no longer needed — till we all come, in the unity
of the faith and of the knowledge of the Son of God,
unto a perfect man — unto the measure of the stature of
the fullness of Christ.

This period, thus divinely appointed for the cessation
of the ministry, has obviously not yet arrived. The
world sees but little yet of millennial glory ; there is
yet an alienated heart in its debased and rebel tribes ;
there is nothing in the pursuits which it follows, nor in
the natural impulses which move it, to incite to holy
aim or to induce spiritual living. It has no self-sugges-
tive memory of God. It has passions as blind and
powerful, and a will as perverse as ever. Death is in
the midst of it, and, though the corpse may be some-
times embalmed with spices, or tricked out with flowers,
or carried 'neath obsequious plumes to burial, the chill
is at its heart, the breath of the plague is in the tainted
air, and there is need, strong and solemn need, for the
anointed witness who may stand between the living and
the dead, that the plague may be stayed. There are
some, I know, who tell us that the mission of the pulpit
is fulfilled. They acknowledge that, in the earlier
ages, in the times of comparative darkness, when men
spelt out the truth in syllables, it did a noble work ;
but the world has outgrown it, they tell us ; men need
neither its light nor its warning ; the all-powerful Press

THE MISSION OF THE PULPIT. 07

shall direct them, the educational institute shall assist
them in their upward progress, they shall' move onward
and upward under the guidance of the common mind.
And, while this is the cry of infidelity and indifferent-
ism, there are some among ourselves who have partially
yielded to the clamor. They have deplored (as who
must not?) the apparent ineffectiveness of existing
agencies, the feebleness of the efforts for evangelical
aggression, and, in their eagerness to conciliate preju-
dice and disarm opposition, they have compromised
somewhat the high tone of Christian teaching, and
have studiously avoided the very terminology of the
Bible, so that the great truths of God's will and man's
duty, of Christ's atonement and the sinner's pardon, of
the Spirit's work and the believer's growth — those old
gospels whose sound is always music and whose sight is
always joy, are hardly to be recognized, as they are
hidden beneath profound thought, or veiled within
affected phrase. But the Divine institution of the
ministry is not to be thus superseded. It has to do
with eternity, and the matters of eternity are para-
mount. It deals and would grapple with the inner
man ; it has to do with the deepest emotions of the
nature, with those instincts of internal truths which
underlie all systems, from which a man can never
utterly divorce himself, and which God himself has
graven on the soul. So far as they work in harmony
with its high purpose, it will hail the helpings of all
other teaching ; but God hath given it the monarchy,

98 THE MISSION OF THE PULPIT.

and it dare not abdicate its throne. The opposition
that you sometimes meet with of worldliness and infi-
delity to the pulpit, if you analyze it, you find that
though it may have derived from the oppressions of
priestcraft in bygone ages somewhat of plausibility and
force, it is but one phase of the method in which the
human heart discovers its rooted and apparently uncon-
querable enmity to God. Hence it is one of the worst
symptoms of the disease which the ministry has been
calculated and instituted to remove. The teaching of
the political agitator, of the philanthropic idealist, of
the benevolent instructor — why are they so popular ?
The teaching of the religious minister — why is it so
repulsive to the world ? Mainly from this one fact,
that the one reproves, and the other exalts human
nature — the one ignores, the other insists upon the doc-
trine of the Fall. You will find, in all the schemes for
the uplifting of man not grounded on the Bible, the
exaltation of his nature as it is, lofty ideas of perfect-
ibility, assertions that it needs neither revelation nor
heavenly influence to guide it in the way of truth.
Thus the Gospel is presented only as one among many
systems which all men may accept or reject at pleasure.
Its restraints are deemed impertinence, its reproofs
unnatural bondage. The talk of such teaching is fre-
quently of rights, seldom of duties. They are compli-
mented on their manliness who ought to be humbled
for their sin, and, by insidious panderings to their pride,
they are exhorted to atheism, self-reliance, or habitual

THE MISSION OF THE PULPIT. 99

disregard of God. Both kinds of teaching, the worldly
and the religious alike, aim at the uplifting of the
nature. But then they look at it from different stand-
points, and, of course, they apply to it different treat-
ment. The one is an endeavor to exalt the nature
without God ; the other would take hold of his strength
and work to the praise of his glory. The one regards
humanity as it once was before sin had warped it, able
to tower and triumph in its own unaided strength — the
other sees it decrepit or ailing, the whole head sick
and the whole heart faint ; and yet, by the balm of
Gilead, to be restored to pristine vigor. The one,
deeming that no confusion has come upon its language,
nor shame upon its many builders, would have it pile up
its Babel towers until they smite the skies — the other
sees the towers in ruins, splintered shaft and crumbling
arch bearing witness that they were once beautiful
exceedingly, and that by the grace and skill of the
heavenly Architect, they may grow up again into a
holy temple in the Lord.

It is absolutely necessary, in this age of manifold
activities and of spiritual pride, that there should be
this ever-speaking witness of man's feebleness and of
God's strength. And, however much the opposition
against the ministry may tell, and it does tell, and it
ought to tell, against the vapid and frivolous, against
the idle and insincere, it is a powerful motive for the
institution of the ministry itself ; just as the blast that
scatters the acorns, roots the oak the more firmly in

100 THE MISSION OF THE PULPIT.

the soil. So long as men are born to die, so long as the
recording angel registers human guilt, so ]ong as human
responsibility and retribution are unheeded truths, so
long as there is one solitary sinner tempted by the
black adversary, so long will the ministry have a busi-
ness with the world ; and it is the earnest prayer of
those who have undertaken it that they may in some
humble measure, in all fidelity and with dauntless
courage, with genial sympathy, with pure affection, be
witnesses for God, like that glorious angel whom the
evangelist saw with the light upon his wings, having
the everlasting Gospel to preach unto every nation and
people and tongue.

II. I observe, secondly, the business of the ministry
is mainly with the conscience of men. Every man
has a conscience ; that is, a natural sense of the diffe-
rence between good and evil — a principle which does
not concern itself so much with the true and false in
human ethics y or with the gainful and damaging in
human fortunes, as with the right and wrong in human
conduct. Call it what you will, analyze it as you may
— a faculty, an emotion, a law — it is the most important
principle in our nature, because by it we are brought
into sensible connection with,, and sensible recognition
of, the moral government of God. It has been defined
sometimes as a tribunal within a man for his own daily
and impartial trial; and in its various aspects it answers
right well to all the parts of a judicial tribunal. It is
the bar at which the sinner pleads; it prefers the accu*

THE MISSION OF THE TULPIT. 101

sation of transgression ; it records the crime ; it bears
witness to guilt or innocence ; and as a judge it acquits
or condemns. Tims taking cognizance of moral actions,
it is the faculty which relates ns to the other world ;
and by it God, retribution, eternity, are made abiding
realities to the soul. As by the physical senses we are
brought into connection with the physical world, and
the blue heavens over it, and the green earth around
us, are recognized in their relation to ourselves ; so by
this moral sense of conscience we see ourselves, in the
light of immortality, responsible creatures, and gain
ideas of duty and of God. How mighty is the influ-
ence which this power has wielded, and yet continues
to wield in the world ! There are many that have tried
to be rid of it, but there is a manhood at its heart which
murder cannot kill. There are many that have rebelled
against its authority, but they have acknowledged its
might notwithstanding, and it has rendered them dis-
turbed and uneasy in their sin. There are multitudes
more that have fretted against its wholesome warnings ;
and often when — because it has warned them of danger
or threatened them with penalty — they have tried to.
stifle and entomb it, it has risen up suddenly into a
braver resurrection, and pealed forth its remonstrances
in bolder port and louder tone. But for its restraint,
many of the world's reputable ones would have become
criminal. But for its restraint, many of the world's
criminals would have become more audaciously bad.
It has spoken, and the felon, fleeing when no man pur-

102 THE MISSION OF THE PULPIT.

sued him, has been chased by a falling leaf. It has
spoken, and the burglar has paled behind his mask,
startled at his own footfall. It has spoken, and the
coward assassin has been arrested in his purpose, and
has paused irresolute ere he has struck the blow. Its
vindictive and severe upbraiding after the sin has been
committed has often lashed the sinner into agony, and
secured an interval of comparative morality by pre-
venting sin for a season. It has been the one witness
for God amid the traitor faculties — single but undis-
mayed, solitary but true. When the understanding
and the memory, and the will and the affections, had
all consented to the enticements of evil, conscience has
stood firm, and the man could never sin with comfort
until he had drugged it into desperate repose. It has
been the one dissentient power among the faculties,
like a moody guest among a company of frantic revel-
lers, whom they could neither conciliate nor expel.
When God's judgments have been abroad in the world,
and men would fain have resolved them into ordinary
occurrences or natural phenomena, conscience has
refused to be satisfied with such delusive interpreta-
tions, and, without a prophet's inspiration, has itself
deciphered the handwriting as it blazed upon the wall.
It has forced the criminal oftentimes to deliver himself
up to justice, preferring the public shame of the trial
and the gallows-tree to the deeper hell of a conscience
aroused and angry. Yes, and it has constrained from
the dying sinner a testimonv to the God he has insulted,

THE MISSION OF THE PULPIT. 103

given when the shadows of perdition were already
darkening upon the branded brow.

Oh, brethren, that must be a mighty power which
has wrought and which is working thus ! And it has
wrought and is working in you ; and, as such, we
acknowledge it. "We can despise no man who has a
conscience. Although with meanness and with sin he
may largely overlay it, we recognize the majestic and
insulted guest, and are silent and respectful as in the
presence of a fallen king. "We see the family-likeness,
although intemperance has bloated the features and has
dulled the sparkle of the eye. There is a spirit in man,
and the inspiration of the Almighty giveth him under-
standing. Now it is with this faculty in man that the
minister has mainly to do. His work, his business, is to
bring out the world's conscience in its answer to the
truths of Divine revelation. Recognizing in it some-
thing which can respond to its own duty, the minister-
ing witness without will constantly appeal to the
answering witness within. Regarding all other facul-
ties, however separately noticeable, as avenues only to
the conscience, he will aim constantly at the ears of the
inner man. To come short of this is to come short of
duty. To fail in this is to fail in a work which our
Master has given us to do. "We should form but a very
unworthy estimate of our own high calling if we were
to aim at the subjugation of any subordinate faculty,
and, that accomplished, sit down as if our work were
done. The minister may appeal to the intellect — of

104r THE MISSION OF THE PULPIT.

course lie may. All thanks to him if he clear away dif-
ficulties from the path of the bewildered. All thanks
to him if he present truth in its symmetry of system,
and in all the grand and rounded harmony of its beau-
tiful design. But he must press through the outworks
to the citadel, through the intellect to the conscience,
that the understanding, no longer darkened, may appre-
hend the truth, and that the apprehended truth may
make the conscience free. The imagination may be
charmed by the truth, which is itself beauty ; but only
that it may hold the mirror up to conscience, to see its
own portrait there photographed directly from on high,
and which, with such marvellous fidelity, gives all the
scars upon the countenance, and every spot and wrinkle
upon the brow. The passions may be roused by the
truth, which is the highest power — not that people may
swoon away under terrific apprehensions of wrath, or
only or mainly that people may escape hell and enter
heaven, but that the conscience may resolve on a holy
life, that there may result the comely outgrowth of a
transformed and spiritual character, and that through
the impending fear of perdition and the promised water
of life, a man may issue into the wealthy place of con-
fidence in God, assimilation to his image, that attach-
ment to right which would cleave fast to it, even were
its cause hopeless and its friends dead, and that perfect
love which casteth out all p6ssible fear.

It is not the intellect, then, but the conscience — not
the imagination, but the conscience — not the passions,

THE MISSION OF THE PULPIT. 105

but the conscience — to which the minister is to com-
mend himself in the sight of God. If he speaks to the
intellect, the philosopher can rival him. If he speaks to
the imagination, his brightest efforts pale before the
dazzling images of the poet's brain. If he speaks to the
passions, the political demagogue can do it better. But,
in his power over the conscience, he has a power that
no man shares. An autocrat undisputed, a czar of many
lands, he can wield the sceptre over the master-faculty
of man. Oh ! very solemn is the responsibility which
thus rests upon the religious teacher. To have the
master-faculty of man within his grasp ; to witness of
truths that are unpopular and repulsive ; to reprove of
sin, and of righteousness, and of judgment ; to do this
with his own heart frail and erring, with the moral con-
flict battling in his own spirit the while. " Who is
sufficient for these things V breaks often from the man-
liest heart in its seasons of depression and unrest. But
there is a comfort broad and strong, and I feel that com-
fort now supporting me. While pained by my own
unworthiness, and by the trifling of multitudes over
whom ministers weep and yearn — pained by the short-
sighted and self-complacent indifference of the church
and the world — pained by the thousand difficulties
which Satan always puts in the way of the reception of
the truth as it is in Jesus ; I say there is a comfort of
which I cannot be deprived : that all the while there is
a mysterious something moving in you — in you all —
barbing the faithful appeal, pointing the solemn warn-

106 THE MISSION OF THE PULPIT.

ing, striking the alarum in the sinner's soul. There !
listen to that ! That belongs to thee. That heart so
callous and ungrateful — it is thine. That sin that the
minister reproves — thou hast committed it. That doom
so full of agony and horror — thou art speeding to it.
How wilt thou escape the damnation of hell ? Many a
time and oft, when the minister without has gone
sheafless to his home, and in tears has offered his
complaint, " Who hath believed our report ?" the min-
ister within, by God's good grace, has been a successful
harvest-man, and gathered sheaves into the garner ; and
often when, to the eye of the human minister, there has
been no ripple on the waves, deep in the depths of the
soul have swelled the billows of the troubled sea ; and
in the keenest acknowledgment of the truth he was
endeavoring to impress, men's consciences have borne
him witness, their thoughts meanwhile accusing, or else
excusing one another.

Again, the great instrumentality which God has
empowered us to use is the truth. You will have no
difficulty in understanding what the Apostle means by
the truth, because he calls it " the word of grace," and
" our Gospel." The revelation of God in Christ, the
life and teaching and wondrous death of Jesus, was the
truth, alone adapted to the supply of every need, and
the rescue from every peril. The Apostle was no ordi-
nary man. "Well-read in 'the literature of the times,
observant of the tendencies and the inclinations of man,
he would be ready to acknowledge truth everywhere.

THE MISSION OF THE PDLPIT. 107

He knew that there had been truth in the world before.
He would see it in Pagan systems, gleaming faintly
through encumbered darkness. Fragments of it had
fallen from philosophers in former times, and had been
treasured up as wisdom. It had a somewhat healthy
circulation through the household impulses and ordinary
concerns of men. But it was all truth for the intellect,
truth for social life, truth for the manward, not the God-
ward relations of the soul. The truth which told of
God, which hallowed all morality by the sanctions of
Divine law, which provided for the necessities of the
entire man, was seen but dimly in uncertain traditions.
Conscience was a slave. If it essayed to speak, it was
overdone by clamor, or hushed by interest into silence.
The higher rose the culture, the deeper sank the charac-
ter. The whole world seemed like one vast valley,
fertile and gay with flowers, but no motion in the dumb
air, not any song of bird or sound of rill ; the gross
darkness of the inner sepulchre was not so deadly still,
until there came down a breath from heaven that
brought life upon its wings, and breathed that life into
the unconscious heaps of slain. - Thus, when Christ
came with his Gospel of purity and freedom, all other
truth seemed to borrow from it a clearer light and a
richer adaptation. The ordinary instincts of right
and wrong were sharpened into a keener discernmert,
and invested with a more spiritual sensibility. Ti e
Gospel founded a grander morality ; the Gospel ests >-
lished a more chivalrous honor ; the Gospel shed out i

108 THE MISSION OF THE PDLPIT.

more genial benevolence. All the old systems had
looked at man as a half-man ; only on one side of his
nature ; that part of him that lay down to the earth.
The Gospel took the whole round of his faculties, both
as lying toward earth and as rising toward heaven.
Love to man — the ordinary, commonplace philanthropy
of every day, the philanthropy that wings the feet of
the good Samaritan, and that sends all the almsgivers
upon errands of mercy — love to man was not known in
its fullness, until the Gospel came. " Thou shalt love
thy neighbor " was a command of old, but then the
Jews first contracted the neighborhood, and then they
contracted the affection. The Jew's neighbor was not
the Samaritan, but one within his own exclusive pale
and sphere. But when love to God came, like a queenly
mother leading out her daughter by the hand, then men
wondered at the rare and radiant beauty that had
escaped their notice so long ; and when they loved God
first, then it was that from that master-love the streams
of love to man flowed forth in ceaseless and in generous
profusion. And the Gospel is just the same now. It is
the great inspiration of ordinary kindnesses, and of the
every-day and rippling happiness of life. It is the truth
for man ; the truth for man's every exigency, and for
his very peril — blessing the body and saving the soul.
By the truth, then, which we are to commend to every
man's conscience, we understand the truth as it is in
Jesus — the truth which convinces of sin and humbles
under a sense of it ; the truth which reveals atonement

THE MISSION OF THE PULPIT. 109

and flashes pardon from it ; the truth which leads the
pardoned spirit upward to holiness and heaven. Now,
we are to bring that conscience and that truth into con-
nection with each other ; that is the great business for
which we are gathered here. In order that there may
be the bringing of the one into connection with the
other, there must be variety in all truth, suited to the
various states in which the conscience of the hearers
may be found.

JSTow, for the sake of argument, we may take it that
there are three stages in which nearly the whole of the
consciences of humanity are ranged : those whose con-
sciences are slumbering, torpid, inert, lifeless ; those
whose consciences are quick, apprehensive, alarmed ;
and those whose consciences have passed through those
former stages, and are now peaceful, happy, and at rest.

1. First, there are some consciences that have no appre-
hension of God — no spiritual sensibility at all. It is a
very sad thought that this has been, and continues to
be, the condition of the vast majority of mankind.
Think of the vast domain of paganism, where the truth
of God is lost for lack of knowledge, with its monstrous
idols, fertile of cruelty, and its characters exemplifying
every variety of evil. You may look through universal
history ; you can see the track of passion in the light of
the flames which it has kindled ; you can see the works
of imagination throned in bodiless thought, or sculptured
in breathing marble ; you can see the many inventions
of intellect on every hand, but for conscience placed on

110 THE MISSION OF THE PULPIT.

its rightful seat, and exerting its legitimate authority,
you look almost in vain. Even in Christian England
there are multitudes of whom it may be said that God
is not in all their thoughts, to whom conscience is a dull
and drowsy monitor, who live on from day to day in
the disregard of plainest duties, and in habitual, harden-
ing sin. Are there not some here ? It may be you go
to your place of worship, but to little purpose ; you are
rarely missed from your accustomed seat, but you have
trifled with conscience until it rarely troubles you, and
when it does, you pooh-pooh it as the incoherences of a
drunkard, or the ravings of some frantic madman.
Brethren, I do feel it a solemn duty to manifest God's
arousing truth to you. I appeal to the moral sense
within you. You are attentive to the truth ; the "Word
is suffered to play around your understanding ; I want
it to go deeper. I accuse you fearlessly of heinous and
flagrant transgression, because you have not humbled
yourselves before Heaven; and God, in whose hands
your breath is, and whose are all your ways, you have
not glorified. I charge you with living to yourselves, or
that, going about to establish your own righteousness,
you have not submitted yourself to the righteousness of
God. I arraign you as being guilty of base ingratitude,
inasmuch as when Christ was offered, the just for the
unjust, that he might bring you to God, you refused to
hearken. And you have trodden under foot the blood
of the covenant, and counted it an unholy thing. I
accuse some of you, moreover, of trying to secure im-

THE MISSION OF THE PULPIT. Ill

punity by your vile treatment of God's inward witness.
You have deposed conscience from its throne ; you have
tried to bribe it to be a participator with you in your
crimes ; you have overborne it by interest, or business,
or clamor, or pleasure ; you have limited its scrutiny to
the external actions, and not allowed it to sit in judg-
ment over the thoughts and intentions of the inner
man. When it has startled you, you have lulled it to
sleep, and you have done it on purpose that you might
the more easily and the more comfortably sin. Bre-
thren, T am not your enemy because I have told you the
truth. That very conscience which you have insulted
bears me witness that it is the truth which I now minis-
ter before you. I warn you of your danger. Oh ! I
would not fear to shake you roughly if I could only
bring you to a knowledge of yourselves. It is a sad and
disastrous thought that there are some consciences here
so fatally asleep that they may never be roused except
by the peal of the judgment trumpet or by the flashing
of the penal tires.

2. Then there are some whose consciences are aroused^
and who are going about, it may be, in bitterness of
soul. You have seemed, perhaps, hard and impene-
trable, but there has been a terrible war in your soul ;
your conscience has been at work ; it is at work now.
Oh ! I have a power over you from this fact — that I
have got an ally in your own bosom testifying to the
truth of the things I speak before you. You may fret
against that power, but you cannot rob me of it. You

112 THE MISSION OF THE PTJLPIT.

cannot get the barb out ; all your endeavors to extract
it only widen and deepen tlie wound. My brother, oh !
let me manifest Christ's redeeming truth to thee.
Christ has died ; all thy wants may be supplied through
his wondrous death. Is thy heart callous and ungrate-
ful ? He has exalted the law and made it honorable.
Hast thou dishonored justice? He has satisfied its
claims. Hast thou violated law ? He has lifted up the
majesty of its equity. Is there in thy spirit unrest and
storm ? Come to him ; thy conscience is like the Gali
lean lake — it shall hear him, and there shall be a great
calm. Doth the curse brood over thee, and calamity
appal thy soul ? Flee to his outstretched arms, and as
thou sobbest on his bosom hear his whispered comfort :
" There is, therefore, now no condemnation unto them
that are in Christ Jesus, who walk not after the flesh,
but after the Spirit." See the clouds disappear, the
tempest hath passed by, the storms rage no longer ; lift
up thy head, serene, peaceful, smiling, happy. Let us
hear thy experience: "In whom I have redemption
through his blood, even the forgiveness of sin, accord-
ing to the riches of his grace."

3. But some of you have got still further, and are
happy in the sense of the Redeemer's love. You are in
the fairest possible position for the true soul-growth day
by day. You rejoice in Christ Jesus now. You have
victory over the carnal mind now. All antagonistic
powers are made subject now. Conscience has resumed
its authority, and is sensitive at the approach of ill, and

tup: mission of the pulpit. 113

eager for the completed will of God. I rejoice, to mani-
fest God's discipling, training, growing, comforting,
nourishing truth to you. Self is not the master-
principle within you now; you are not paralyzed by
craven fear. There is a good land and fair before you.
Rise to the dignity of your heritage. What a future
awaits you ! to be day by day more like God, to have
day by day bright visions of the throne, day by day in-
creased power over sin, increased progress toward
heaven, increased fellowship with the Divine; and then
when the tabernacle falls down there opens another
scene — angelic welcomes, the King in his beauty, and a
house not made with hands eternal in the heavens.

III. " By manifestation of the truth commending
ourselves to every man's conscience in the sight of
God." In the sight of God. Ah ! that is the thought
that hallows it. All our endeavors for the enlighten-
ment of the ignorant are under the felt inspection of
Almighty God. His eye marks the effort; his voice,
"I know thy works," is constantly in-spoken to the
soul. It is necessary that we should feel this in order
to fit us for our duty. If we do not feel this we shall
have no courage. Depend upon it, the heroism which
the pulpit needs, which it never needed in this world's
history so much as it needs to-day — the heroism which
the pulpit needs, which the ministry must have, will
not be wrought in the soul unless this thought be there.
There is so much to enslave a man — the consciousness
of his own -airworthiness and weakness, in his best and

114 THE MIS3I0X OF THE PULPIT.

holiest moments ; the love of approbation which, from
a natural instinct, swells often into a sore temptation ;
the reluctance to give offence lest the ministry should
be blamed, the anxiety as to what men think of him
and say of him — oh! how often have these things
checked the stern reproof or faithful warning, made
a preacher the slave instead of the monarch of his
congregation, and, instead of the stern, strong, fearless
utterance of the prophet, made him stammer forth his
lispings with the hesitancy of a blushing child. De-
pend upon it, it is no light matter ; it requires no com-
mon boldness to stand single-handed before the pride
of birth, and the pride of rank, and the pride of office,
and the pride of intellect, and the pride of money, to
rebuke their transgressions, to ship off their false con-
fidence, and tear away their refuges of lies. But if a
man have it burned into his heart that he is speaking
in the sight of God, he will do it — yes, he will. God-
fear will banish man-fear. He will feel that for the
time the pulpit is his empire and the temple is his
throne, and, like another Baptist, he will thunder out
his denunciations against rich and poor together, with
his honest eyes straight flashing into theirs, " Except
ye repent, ye shall all likewise perish."

" In the sight of God." Give him that thought, and
he will be tender as well as brave ; he will look upon
his congregation as immortal, and will see in each one
before him (oh, that thought is overwhelming !) an off-
spring of the Divine, an heir of the Everlasting ; and

THE MISSTON OF THK PULPIT. 115

in this aspect of it lie will tremble before the majesty
of man ; he will be awe-struck as he thinks of trying
to influence them for eternity. There will be no harsh-
ness in his tones, there will be no severity in his coun-
tenance. If the violated lav/ must speak out its thun-
ders, it will be through brimming eyes and faltering
tongue. He will remember his own recent deliverance.
Like Joseph, he will scatter blessings round him with
a large and liberal hand ; but there will be no osten-
tation, there will be no vanity ; for he will remember
that he is but the almoner of another's bounty, and that
his own soul has only just been brought out of prison.
He will be like one shipwrecked mariner who has but
just got upon a rock, and is stretching out a helping
hand to another who yet struggles in the waters ; but
he that is on the rock knows that the yawning ocean
rages and is angry, near. Oh ! let us realize that we
are in sight of God, and we shall have larger sympa-
thies for man, we shall have more of the spirit of Him
who came eating and drinking, who was a friend of
publicans and sinners. There will be no fierce rebukes,
no proud exclusivism, no pharisaical arrogance then.
The sleeper will not be harshly chided ; the remon-
strance of affection will yearn over him, " My brother,
my brother !" and the tear will gather in the eye as the
invitation is given, or the regret is breathed, " Ye will
not come unto me that ye may have life ;" " Come, all
ye that are weary and heavy laden, and I will give
you rest."

116 THE MISSION OF THP: PULPIT.

"In the sight of God." That will help us to per-
severe. We shall be constant as well as brave and
tender, if we realize continually that we are in the
sight of God. Though difficulties multiply, this will
prevent us from becoming weary and faint in our
minds ; we shall remember him who endured the con-
tradiction of sinners against himself; and, through
perverseness or obstinacy, whether men will bear or
whether men will forbear, we shall labor on for the
cause of Christ and for the good of souls. We shall
not be satisfied with good report, with extensive popu-
larity, with decorous congregations, with attention set-
tled, and seriousness upon every countenance. We
shall want souls. We shall press right away through
to the great end of restoring the supremacy of con-
science, and bringing the disordered world back again
to its allegiance to God. This is our life-work, and we
are doing it day by day — unfaithfully, imperfectly, but
we are doing it. Moral truth upon the mind of man
is something like a flat stone in a churchyard, through
which there is a thoroughfare, and hundreds of patter-
ing feet go over it day after day. Familiarity with it
has weakened the impression, and time has effaced the
lettering. But God has sent us with a friendly chisel
to bring it out again into sharpest, clearest, crispest,
distinctest outline before the spirits of men. This is
our life-work ; and we are laboring on amid the driving
sleet and pelting rain ; jostled now and then by the
rude and heedless passenger ; fitfully looked at by

THE MISSION OF THE PULPIT. 117

those who Hit away to the farm and the merchandise ;
regarded with a sort of contemptuous admiration by
those who admire our industry, while they pity our
enthusiasm. Patient, earnest workers, we must labor
on, and we intend to do it. God helping, the ministry
of reconciliation will continue to be proclaimed, within
reach of every man in this land, Sabbath after Sabbath,
universally, unto those who will come, without money
and without price. And everywhere we shall have
our reward. I, for my part, cannot labor in vain.
What think you would sustain me under the pressure
of the multiplied excitement and multiplied sorrow
and labor, but the thought that I cannot labor in vain ?
The words I have just spoken have been launched into
your ears, and have lodged in your conscience, and I
cannot recall them. Simple, well-known Bible truths
have gone into your conscience, and I cannot recall
them. But they shall come up some day. You and
I may never meet again until we stand at the judg-
ment-seat of God. They shall come up then — then —
and, verily, I shall have my reward. I shall have it
when some fair-haired child steps out to spell out the
syllables upon the flat stone, and goes away with a
new purpose formed in his heart. I shall have it when
some weather-beaten man, bronzed with the hues of
climates and shades of years, takes the solemn warning,
numbers his days, and applies his heart unto wisdom.
I shall have it in the welcome given to my ascending
spirit by some whom I first taught, it may be un-

118 THE MISSION OF THE PULPrT.

worthily, to swell the hosanna of praise, or to join
with holy sincerity in all the litanies of prayer. I
Bhall have it in the smile that wraps np all heaven in
itself, and in those tones of kindness which flood the
sonl with ineffable music — " Well done, thou good and
faithful servant ; enter thou into the joy of thy Lord."
I leave with you and the Spirit — I dare not trust you
alone — the Word of his grace, praying that He who
alone can apply it, may give it life and power.

IV.

SOLICITUDE FOE THE ARK OF GOD.

" And when he came, lo, Eli sat upon a seat by the wayside watching ;
for his heart trembled for the ark of God." — 1 Sam. iv. 13.

What news from the battle-field ? — for the Philistines
are out against Israel, and the Israelitish armies are
marshalled, and have gone forth unto the fight. A few
days ago a reverse befell them, but they have sent for a
fancied talisman, and they are marching now with the
ark of God in their midst, deeming that its presence in
their camp will assure victory to their side. There is
expectation in the streets of Shiloh, doubt and hope
alternating in the spirits of its townsmen ; for though
the ark is a tower of strength, yet their defeat has dis-
heartened them, and dark rumors, moreover, of the
Lord's kindled anger, and of sad prophecies alleged to
have been spoken, are rife among the people ; so that
many a glance is strained wistfully toward the plains
of Aphek, whence the couriers may bring tidings of the
war. There are quivering lips in the city, and cheeks
blanched with sudden fear ; for the tidings have come,
and they are tidings of disaster and of shame : the glory

120 SOLICITUDE FOR THE AEK OF OOD.

of Israel hath fallen upon its high places ; the shield of
the mighty hath been vilely cast away ; thirty thousand
of the people have fallen with a great slaughter ; and
the sacred symbol of their faith itself has been carried
off in triumph by the worshippers of Ashtaroth and
Dagon. Loud is the wail of the widows, and terrible
the anguish of the remnant that are left, oppressed by
the national dishonor. But yonder, near the gate, there
is one feeble old man, with silvered hair and sightless
eyes, before whom, as each mourner passes, he subdues
his sorrow into silence, as in the presence of grief that
is mightier than his own. It is Eli, the high priest of
God ; he hears the tumult, but is yet unconscious of its
cause. But now the messenger comes in hastily to
unfold his burden of lamentation and of weeping.
" And the man said unto Eli, I am he that came out of
the army, and I fled to-day out of the army. And he
said, What is there done, my son ?" Oh, terrible are
the tidings that are now to come upon the heart of that
old man, like successive claps of thunder. "And the
messenger answered and said, Israel is fled before
the Philistines " — here the patriot mourns — " and there
hath been also a great slaughter among the people " —
here the spirit of the judge is stricken — " and thy two
sons also, Hophni and Phineas, are dead" — here the
father's heart bleeds. Strong must have been the
struggle of the spirit under the pressure of this cumu-
lative agony, but it bears nobly up. Ah, but there is a
heavier woe behind: "And the ark of God is taker.

SOLICITUDE FOE THE ARK OF GOD. 121

And it came to pass when lie made mention of the ark
of God " — not till then, never till then—" that he fell
from off the seat backward by the side of the gate, and
his neck brake, and he died." The grand old man : he
may have been feeble in restraint and criminal in
indulgence, but there is majesty about this his closing
scene which redeems his errors and shrines him with
the good and true. The patriot could survive the dis-
honor of his country ; the judge, though weeping sore,
could be submissive under the slaughter of the people ;
the father, his heart rent the while with remorseful
memories, could have upborne under the double be-
reavement : but the saint swooned away his life when
deeper affliction was narrated of the disaster that had
happened to the ark of God. " And it came to pass
that when he made mention of the ark of God that he
fell from off the seat backward by the side of the gate,
and his neck brake, and he died."

Brethren, this is just the character, the type of cha-
racter, that we covet for the churches of to-day — men of
broad souls, large-hearted and kindly in their human
sympathy, bating not a jot in all earthly activities and
philanthropy, but reserving their highest solicitudes for
the cause and service of the Lord Jesus Christ. " An
impossible combination," scoffers are ready to observe^
" and unlovely even if it were possible. The narrow
fanaticism will contract the human affection ; the man
will be so absorbed in the possibilities of the shall-be as
to forget the interests of the now; he will live in a

6

122 SOLICITUDE FOR THE AKK OF GOD.

world of the ideal, and the life that now is, and that
presses upon us so incessantly on every side, will dege-
nerate into a brief history of dwarfed charities and
aimless being." lSTay, surely not so, my brother. That
love must ever be the kindliest, even on its human side,
which has the furthest and the most open vision. That
cannot be either a small or a scanty affection which
takes eternity within its scope and range. The Christ-
ian, the more he realizes his Christianity, and embodies
it, becomes of necessity pervaded by an affection,
bounded only by the limits of humanity.

"Pure love to God its members find-
Pure love to every son of man."

And this love, which the thought of eternity thus makes
indestructible, is raised by the same thought above the
imperfections which attach themselves to individual
character, so that it sees the broad stamp of humanity
everywhere, and discovers, even in the outcast and
trembling sinner, an heir of the Everlasting, an offspring
of the Divine.

And this, the perfection of character, is the character
which we covet for you. You will find very many
instances in Scripture in. which, in words full, full to
overflowing, of the warmest human affection, regard
for the spiritual is discovered, not in ostentatious obtru-
sion, but in developments of incidental beauty, to be
the reigning passion of the soul. Who can for a
moment doubt the strong human affection of the be-

SOLICITUDE FOR THE ARK OF GOD. 123

loved disciple, who, loving at first, drank in a deeper
lovingness as he lay upon the Master's bosom, and to
whom, as the fittest for such a mission, was committed
the charge of that meek sufferer with a sword in her
heart — the sad and saintly mother of our Lord ? Listen
to his salutation to Gains the well-beloved : " I wish
above all things " — this is my chiefest and most fervent
desire — "I wish above all things that thou may est
prosper and be in health, even as thy soul prospereth."
This is the principal thing after all. Remember David
and all his afflictions. See the persecuted monarch
fleeing from his infuriated and bitter enemies, hunted
like a hart upon the mountains, lodged, with small
estate and diminished train, in some fortress of Engedi or
in some cave of Adullam ! Of what dreams he in his
solitude % What are the memories that charge his
waking hours ? Does he sigh for the palace and the
purple, for the sceptre and the crown ? No — Hark !
His royal harp, long silent, trembles again into melody !
" How amiable are thy tabernacles, O Lord of Hosts !
My soul longeth, yea, even fainteth, for the courts of
the Lord : my heart and my flesh crieth out for the living
God." See him again when he is crossing the brook
Kedron, when the hearts of his people have been stolen
from him by his vile and flattering son ; when he has lost
his crQwn and is in danger of losing his life ; what is his
chiefest anxiety in that time of adversity, and in that
crisis of peril ? " And the king said unto Zadok, carry
back the ark of God into the city. If I shall find favor

124 SOLICITUDE FOK THE ARK OF GOO.

in the eyes of the Lord he will bring me again, and
show me both it and his habitation." As if he had
said, " The ark of God — all that is tender and all that is
sacred are in my history associated with the ark of God
— carry back the ark of God into the city. I am
hunted like a hart upon my own mountains ; I have
no longer a sceptre of authority ; I am going upon a
precarious expedition ; I know not what may become
of me. Carry back the ark. Don't let it share our
fortune ; don't let it be exposed to insult and pillage,
and the chances of war. Carry back the ark carefully.
Whatever becomes of me, carry back the ark of God
into the city ; though I wander in exile, lie down in
sorrow, and am at last buried in the stranger's grave."
But what need of multiplying examples ? It was his
religious home, the metropolis of faith, the place which
God's presence had hallowed, which was referred to
when the happy Israelite, rejoicing in recovered free-
dom, and remembering long years of bondage, struck
his harp and sang, " By the rivers of Babylon there we
sat down ; yea, we wept when we remembered Zion."
And this, I repeat it, brethren, the perfection of charac-
ter, is the character we covet for you. As Christians
you are bound to cultivate it. It is the highest affec-
tion in heaven : " The Lord loveth the gates of Zion
more than all the dwellings of Jacob." It is the high-
est affection of the incarnate Son : " The zeal of thine
house hath eaten me up." It is the highest affection of
the Apostle, the highest style of man : " Neither count

SOLICITUDE FOR THE ARK OF GOD. 125

I my life dear unto myself, so that I might finish my
course with joy, and the ministry which I have re-
ceived of the Lord Jesus, to testify the Gospel of the
grace of God."

Oh, that God would raise up amongst us Elis in our
spiritual Israel, who, with reverent and earnest solici-
tude, would have their hearts tremble for the ark of
God. His heart trembled for the ark of God, and
wherefore ? Because the ark of God was in peril. In
peril from its enemies — in greater peril from its friends.
And, brethren, the cause and kingdom of Christ, pure
religion and undefiled before God and the Father, the
faith for which we are valiantly and constantly to con-
tend, is in this hazard to-day. It also is in peril : in
peril from its enemies ; in greater, deeper, deadlier peril
from its friends.

These are the points which I will endeavor, briefly,
God helping me, to illustrate on the present occasion.

I. In the first place, the ark of God is in peril from
its enemies. There never was a period, perhaps, when
the ark of God was carried out into a hotter battle,
or was surrounded by fiercer elements of antagonism.
There is, for instance, idolatry, holding six hundred mil-
lions of our race in thrall. Idolatry, which has suc-
ceeded in banishing from their perceptions all thought
of the true God — which holds all that vast world of
mind under the tyranny of the vilest passions, and
under the dark and sad eclipse both of intellectual and
spiritual knowledge.

126 SOLICITUDE FOR THE ARK OF GOD.

There is, again, imposture, reigning in Mohammedan
realms over one hundred and forty millions of souls ;
imposture, accommodated with the most exquisite inge-
nuity to the prejudices of the population among which
it was to spread, complimenting Moses to cajole the
Jew, speaking respectfully of Jesus to seduce the nomi-
nal Christian, offering a voluptuous heaven to the
licentious Pagan, and gathering in the indifferent by
the wholesale conversion of the sword — imposture thus
founded and perpetuated over some of the fairest pro-
vinces of the globe in foul and ferocious despotism until
now.

There is, again, superstition, the corruption of Christi-
anity by Greek and papal admixtures, blinding the
world with the utter falsehood of half truths, dazzling
the senses and emasculating the understanding, traffick-
ing in sin as in merchandise, and selling escape from
its penalties cheap. Imposture, under whose strange
system atheist and libertine, infidel and Jew, may
join hands together and with equal rights wear the
sacred garments, and, in robes upon which the cross is
broidered, may gather together to make war against the
Lamb.

There is, again, skepticism, that cold and soulless
thing, that mystery of iniquity, which doth already
work, chilling the ardor of the church and hardening
the unbelief of the world--skepticism, bribing intellect
to sustain it with sophistry, and genius to foster its
errors, and poetry to embalm them in song — skepticism,

SOLICITUDE FOR THE ARK OF GOD. 127

that travels through the universe in search of truth
and beauty, that it may enfeeble the one by its misgiv-
ings, and blight the comeliness of the other by its wintry
breath.

All these, enemies of Christianity from the beginning,
and retaining their ancient hate against it, now are the
Philistines of its spiritual field. They are not content,
as in former times, with holding their own ; they have
a resolute purpose of aggression. They have habit, and
numbers, and prejudice on their side ; they have war-
riors and a priesthood, zealous and valiant in their
service. They have no chivalry about them to restrain
them from any style of warfare. They smart under
multiplied defeats, and they know that in the heart of
every man in the world there are interests and sympa-
thies in their favor. There is reason, then, is there not,
for that cry, " Men of Israel, help !" there is reason,
strong and solemn reason, why the Elis of our Israel
should sit by the wayside, watching, for their hearts
tremble for the ark of God. It is not necessary to
enlarge upon this point. I do not want to preach
specially to-night in reference to these extraneous mat-
ters— matters, I mean, extraneous to the Church of
Christ, which hinder the progress of the work of God in
the world. I want to come nearer home in discussing
our second point :

II. Just as it was in the days of Israel, so it is now —

THE ARK OF GoD IS IN STRONGER, DEEPER, DEADLIER PERIL

from its friends. Vainly might the Philistines have

128 SOLICITUDE FOR THE ARK OF GOD.

fought, vainly might the foe have striven, if there had
not been in the heart of the camp the springs of deep
and destructive evils, if the chosen children of Israel
had not been traitors and unworthy of themselves.
And there are, if you will only examine into the subject,
strange analogies subsisting between the causes which
prevented the victory of Israel of old, and the causes
which operate with such fearful disaster against the pro-
gress of the truth of God to-day.

1. In the first place, there was in the camp of Israel
of old the presence of superstition, a blind reliance upon
external forms. The Israelites, though their lives were
loose and their devotions therefore iniquity, felt safe in
the prospect of the battle, because they had the presence
of the ark. At other times they cared nothing about it,
were indifferent altogether as to its welfare ; but in the
hour of danger, they rallied round it as an amulet of
strength, and in place of contrition before God, and in
place of humblings on account of sin, they vaunted that
the Lord was in the midst of them, and conveyed what
they deemed to be the symbol of his presence with
arrogant and obtrusive gladness to the camp. And it
is to be feared, brethren, that there is much of this vain
and formal confidence clogging our piety now. Are
there not hanging upon our skirts, ostensibly one with
us in fellowship and spirit, many of whom we stand in
doubt before God, and over" whose defective consistency
we mourn? Kay, are we not all conscious, each for
himself — let the spirit of searching come in — are we not

SOLICITUDE FOR THE ARK OF GOD. 129

all conscious of compromise, if not, indeed, of betrayal ?
Our church, our organization, our influence, the decorum
of our services, the activity of our agencies, an attractive
ministry, a respectable gathering, a well-furnished sanc-
tuary, a well-replenished treasury — have not these
stolen our hearts away from the Divine, the spiritual,
the heavenly? Our spirit — bounds it after the Divine
Spirit as it once did ? Our ear — listens it as intently
for his whispers ? Our eye — has it as keen an insight
for his coming ? Or is the very symbol of his dwelling,
which, in the olden time, transformed the wilderness
from the sepulchre into the home, become an occasion
of sin, if not an object of idolatry ? Oh, for some brave
old Hezekiah to come amongst us and write Nehushtan
upon the mutilated brass, and break it into pieces before
God ! Do not mistake us ; we are no iconoclasts, to
dissolve all organizations, and mutilate the whole and
perfect symmetry of truth, and with distempered zeal
to tear away the inscriptions on her holy and beautiful
house. We rejoice in precious ordinances, and crowded
sanctuaries, and in those grand institutions of benevo-
lence which redeem our age from lethargy. But when
the trust of the individual or of the church is placed in
these things, God's Holy Spirit is dishonored, and the
life of our religion becomes of dwarfed growth and
sickly habit, from the very care with which we screen it
from the breath of heaven. Brethren, are there not in
the Divine "Word many intimations of the tendency which
we now deplore, to let the very highest and holiest

6*

130 SOLICITUDE FOR THE ARK OF GOD.

customs degenerate into the indifference of formalism ?
That the brazen serpent lifted np in the wilderness
received in after ages idolatrous homage, I have already
reminded you. And such was the danger of idolatry to
the children of Israel, that God would not trust any one
of them to be present at the funeral of their great law-
giver. No human eye must witness his obsequies, but,
in solitary possession of his God-prepared sepulchre, the
lordly lion stalked, and the bald old eagle flew. The
combined power of healing and of speech constrained
the worship of the men of Lystra for the Apostles Bar-
nabas and Paul. Maltese superstition, which had
branded him as a murderer whom the viper stung, in
sudden reaction deified him when he declined to die.
And in the time of the Saviour, the temple had become
a house of merchandise ; anise and cummin were of
more account than righteousness and truth, and enlarged
phylacteries and public prayers, and a countenance pre-
ternaturally sad, were the low and degenerate substi-
tutes for a renewed heart and a holy life. And, bre-
thren, it becomes us solemnly to be on our guard in this
matter, for the same tendency exists still. The formal
and the careless will creep into our worship, and, if we
are not watchful, will eat out the heart of our religion.
If, as individuals, our trust is in our attendance on
religious ordinances, or our participation of sacramental
emblems and our fellowship in church communion, or
the comeliness of our external moralities, and if, in the
strength of these, unfurnished with the higher gifts of

SOLICITUDE FOR THE AEK OF GOD. 131

the Divine Spirit, we go out to dare the dangers and
fight the battles of our daily life ; and if, as a church, as
a confederacy of Christian people, we talk about our
numbers, and our agency, and our influence, what are
we doing but perpetrating — perpetrating, too, with still
greater aggravation and enormity — the error and the
sin of the people of Israel of old ? "We carry the ark
into the battle, but we leave the God of the ark behind
us ; and there is strong and solemn need that the Elis
of our Israel" should sit by the wayside, watching, for
their hearts tremble for the ark of God.

2. I observe, secondly, that there was inconsistency
in the camp of Israel. The times were times of apostasy
and of idolatry ; the priests, who should have been the
leaders of the people, committed abominable iniquity ;
there were sensuality and oppression in the service of
the holy shrine, so that men abhorred the offering of
the Lord, and, by consequence, the whole land became
infected with the contagion of this evil example. There
was still an affectation of reverence for the sanctuary,
and of attachment to the ark; but the Lord of the
sanctuary and the God of the ark were not the true
objects of worship and of love. And is it not so largely
now? Are there not amongst those who habitually
gather themselves for worship, numbers, not, perhaps,
consciously insincere, but strangely defective? and
numbers more — spots in our feasts of charity — who come
among us like so many whited sepulchres, all symmetry
without, but all rottenness within: Achans, whose

132 SOLICITUDE FOE THE ARK OF GOD.

rapacious covetousness can hardly hold itself from the
prey : Reubens, whose unstable souls are luring them-
selves to their own destruction : Judases, with fawning
lip, and grasping hand, but hiding in the coward heart
the guilty purpose of betrayal? Are there not such
amongst us ? Yes, there are those who intrude them-
selves into our assemblies, eluding all human scrutiny,
wearing the garb of sanctity, and remaining in their
imposture, perhaps, until some overwhelming pressure
crushes them, and brings scandal upon the cause that
they have dishonored. And in public life are we not
accustomed to hear a noisy zeal for the holy name of
God on the part of men who rarely use it except in
imprecation and in blasphemy — ostentatious helpings-
on of the ark by those in whose esteem it figures only
as an imposing thing for public procession, or as a relic
of sanctity to be unveiled to the curious in some hour
of rejoicing and of display ? Brethren, this inconsistency
imperils alike our own salvation and the progress of the
cause of God. The Church must be consistent, every
individual in the Church must be sincere and thorough
in his piety, before the work is done. It may be, or it
may not be, that there is the hypocrite here to-night —
the systematic and habitual impostor — who has assumed
the garb of godliness that he may the better sin ; if
there be, in God's name let him forsake his hope, for it
will perish, and let him at once, before the hail sweeps
his refuges of lies away, seek mercy of that Saviour
whom he has insulted and betrayed. And what is our

SOLICITUDE FOR THE AltK OF GOD. 133

condition? Grey hairs have come upon us, signs of
feebleness, tokens of lassitude and age, and we have not
known it. Oh ! a more sincere and decisive godliness
is wanted from us all, if we would either pass untar-
nished through the terrible temptations of the world, or
be found worthy to bear the vessels of the Lord.
Brethren, we must resolve that whatever of insincerity
may have attached to our profession shall at once be
forsaken, and that we will from this time forward, God
helping us, renew our baptismal vows, and be valiant
for the truth upon the earth. If in our pursuit of plea-
sure there has been the indulgence of frivolity, and per-
haps of licentiousness — if in our high-reaching ambition
for renown there have been oppression and time-serv-
ing, and the concealment of principle, and practices that
are corrupt and unworthy — if in our labor for compe-
tence there has been compliance with unhallowed cus-
tom, or complicity with wrong — if we have followed
the maxims of trade, rather than the maxims of truth —
if there has been over-reaching and cupidity in our
commercial life, we have sinned, and our profession of
religion only makes our sin more truly scandalous, and
more completely sin. And it behooves us all now, from
this very hour, to put away the sin from us with loath-
ing, and fall humbled and penitent before God. We
must have holiness — inner and vital heart-holiness — if
we would cleave unto the Lord with full purpose of
heart.

Brethren, when I see out in the broad world the

134: SOLICITUDE FOE THE ARK OF GOD.

palpable inconsistencies of professors of religion — a man
devout in the sanctuary and detestable at home, saintly
on the Sabbath and sordid all the week, ostentatious in
the enterprises of benevolence, but grinding his own
workmen and tyrannical to the poor — when I see a
man, whose citizenship is ostensibly in heaven, distance
the keenest worldling around him in the race of fashion,
or in the strife for gold — when I see a man, whose reli-
gion teaches the divinest charity, censorious in his
spirit, and narrow in his soul — when I see a man, to
whom God has given a fortune in stewardship, grudging
to dispense to him that is in want ; when I see a man,
whose Divine Saviour rebuked his own disciples for in-
tolerance, professing to follow his footsteps, and yet
harshly excluding thousands from his fold ; or when in
the world of opinion I see religion represented as vindi-
cating the most monstrous atrocities, as preaching
eternal reprobation, as advocating an accursed system
of slavery, as upholding an aggressive war — what have I
to think but, as it was in the days of ancient Israel, the
ark of God is carried out by the uncircumcised to battle,
and there is need — strong, solemn, and passionate need
— that the Elis of our Israel should sit upon the way-
side, watching, for their hearts tremble for the ark of
God.

3. And then there was, in the third place — and it is
the last particular that I shall mention — there was in
the camp of ancient Israel indifference. I do not mean
to say that there was not a sort of patriotism — a natural

SOLICITUDE FOR THE AEK OF GOD. 135

and common wish for victory — a desire to free them-
selves from the Philistine thrall. But patriotism, to be
real and to be hallowed, must have all-heartedness ;
and this was lacking. They had no confidence in their
leaders; there was among them the element of dis-
union. The laxity of their lives had of necessity en-
feebled somewhat their moral principles, so that the
high and chivalrous inspirations of the true lover of his
country were emotions that were above them and
beyond them. Hence, they went out into the battle-
field, but they went with paralyzed arms ; conscience
made cowards of them, and, recreant and panic-stricken,
they fled at the first attack of the foe. And, brethren,
can there be any question that a lack of whole-hearted
earnestness is one of the chief sources of peril to the ark
of God to-day ? Oh, if Laodicea is to be the type of the
Church, it is no wonder that the world sneers and
perishes ! If religion, clad in silken sheen, has become
a patronized and fashionable thing — a something that
men cleave to as they cleave to the other items of a res-
pectable life — something that they wear as a sort of
armorial bearing for which they pay small duty either
to God or man — it is no wonder that the world should
be heedless of the message, and should subside into the
drowsy monotony in which the messengers dream away
their lives. Brethren, the poisonous trees do little harm
in the vineyard ; they are uprooted as soon as they are
seen. It is the barren trees, that cumber the ground
and mock the husbandman, that are the curses of the

136 SOLICITUDE FOR THE ARK OF GOD.

vineyard of the Lord. Cases of flagrant apostasy but
little hinder the progress of the work; their incon-
sistency is so palpable and manifest. They are the true
hinderers, under the shadow of whose luxury, and idle-
ness, and frivolity, the Church sits at ease in Zion,
while they are eating out its inner life as the vampire
sucks out the life-blood of the victim that it is all the
while fanning with its wings. Oh, brethren, we need
all of us a baptism for a deeper and diviner earnestness,
that we may bear our testimony for God. We are a
witnessing Church ; this is our character and our mis-
sion. But, alas ! our witness has sometimes been feeble
and has sometimes been false. We have been altogether
too secular and too selfish. "We have not been prophets
— not we ; but stammering, hesitating, blushing child-
ren, ashamed of the message that our Father has bidden
us deliver. We have sought morality rather than holi-
ness, serenity rather than sacrifice, smooth things to
conciliate the world rather than strong things to conquer
the world. We have been content to grasp all the
world's wealth and honor that we could, and then, in
:he great wreck, some on boards and some on broken
pieces of the ship, to get ourselves safe to land, rather
than, freighted with heavenly treasure, to cast anchor
in the fair haven with colors flying, and amid the glad
welcome of the multitudes on shore. Oh, there is room,
brethren, indeed there is, for the taunt of the infidel :
" Ye Christians are as infidel as I am ; ye do not believe
in your own system; if you did, like a fire in your

SOLICITUDE FOR THE ARK OF GOD. 137

bones, it would burn you into action, if by any means
you might save some.'1 Oh ! everything' around us is
rebuking this lethargic and this professional' piety.
Everything is in earnest — suns in their constant shining,
and, rivers in their ceaseless flow ; the breeze that stops
not day nor night to bear health upon its wings, the
sirring tripping up the winter, the seed-time hastening
on the harvest — all are activity, faltering not, any one
of them, in the sure and steady purpose of their being.
Error is in earnest ; Pagans are self-devoted ; Mohamme-
danism has her resolute and valiant sons ; Popery com-
passes sea and land to make one proselyte ; infidels walk
warily and constantly, scattering the seeds of unbelief.
Society is in earnest; the sons of enterprise do not
slumber ; the warriors — how they hail the clarion call,
and rush eagerly into the battle; the students — how
they consume the oil of the lamp and the oil of life to-
gether ; Mammon's votaries — are they the laggards in the
streets ? Oh, everything around us seems to be lashed
into intensest energy, while we — ingrates that we are,
God forgive us ! — with the noblest work in the universe
to do, and the most royal facilities to do it with ; with
the obligations of duty, and gratitude, and brotherhood,
and fellowship ; with the vows of discipleship upon us ;
with death at our doors and in our homes ; and with the
sad, wailing sound, as if it came from places where men
were and are not : " ~No man hath cared for my soul "
— we are heedless and exclusive, selfish and self-
aggrandizing, and, worst of all, as self-satisfied with our

138 SOLICITUDE FOR THE ARK OF GOD.

grudged obedience, and our scanty effort, and our
heartless prayer, as if no sinners were in peril and as
if no Christ had died. And is it really so ? Has that
mightiest motive lost its power? Is Mammon really
more potent than Messiah ? Has the crucifix a holier
inspiration than the cross? Is it true that war can
move men's passions, and science stimulate their souls,
and trade intensify their energies, and ambition flame
their blood ? and is Christianity nothing but a worn-out
spell — a dim memorial of ancient power — an ex-
tinguished volcano, with no fire slumbering in its
mighty heart ? Is it true ? Thy cross, O Jesus, has it
lost its magnetism? does it no longer draw all men
unto thee ? Thy love, O Saviour, boundless, unfathom-
able, all-embracing, doth it constrain no longer the souls
for whom thy blood was shed ? It is yours to answer
these questions ; do it as in the sight of God. But, oh !
when we see the terrible indifference around us — when
we see the awful contrast between the intensity of our
beliefs and the smallness of our doings for Christ — what
wonder is it that the Elis of our Israel, who, with all
their faults, feel their heart-strings quiver in solicitude
for the interests of Zion, should sit by the wayside,
watching, because their hearts tremble for the ark of
God?

May God the Holy Ghost come down, and write these
truths upon the hearts of all, for his name's sake !

THE INCARNATION OF CHRIST.

" Forasmuch then as the children are partakers of flesh and blood,
he also himself likewise took part of the same." — Heb. ii. 14.

Some eighteen hundred years ago, in the land of
Judah, and in the city of Jerusalem, a strange restless-
ness had come upon the public mind. If a stranger
just about that time had visited the Holy City, and
had made himself acquainted with the inner life of its
inhabitants, he would have found them all engrossed
with one absorbing theme. It had superseded, as
matter of interest, commerce, and conquest, and the
intrigues of faction, and the subjects of ordinary poli-
tics. It had become the unconfessed hope of matrons
and the deep study of earnest men. So prevalently
had it spread, that it became identified with every
thinking of the Hebrew mind, and with every beating
of the Hebrew heart. This topic was the advent of a
Deliverer who had been promised of God unto their
fathers. Their holy books contained circumstantial
directions, both as to the signs of his coming, and as
to the period about which he might be expected to

139

140 THE INCARNATION OF CHRIST.

appear, and these various prophecies converged to
their fulfillment. There were rumors, moreover, of
certain meteoric appearances, which in Eastern coun-
tries were deemed the luminous heralds of the birth
of a great king ; and the heart of many a patriot Jew
would throb more quickly, as in his vain dream of
material empire he saw the Messiah, already, in vision,
triumphing over his enemies, and his followers flushed
with the spoil. In the midst of this national expect-
ancy, events of strong significance were occurring in
a quarter from which the eyes of the world would have
turned heedlessly or in scorn. The national census was
decreed to be taken throughout the Jewish provinces
of the Roman empire in the time of Augustus Csesar.
In obedience to the imperial enactment, each man, with
his household, went up for enrollment to his own — that
is, his ancestral city. The unwonted influx of strangers
had crowded the little inn in the little city of Bethle-
hem, one of the least among the thousands of Judah ;
so that the out-buildings were laid under tribute to
furnish shelter to later comers. In the stable of that
mean hostelry a young child was born. There was
nothing about him to distinguish him from the ordinary
offspring of Jewish mothers, and yet, at the moment
of his birth, a new song from angel harps and voices
rang through the plains of Bethlehem and ravished the
watchful shepherds with celestial harmonies. Small
space had passed ere wondering peasants beheld a star
of unusual brightness hovering over that obscure dwell-

THE INCARNATION OF CHRIST. 141

ing ; and by and by the inn was thrown into confusion
by the arrival of a company of foreigners from afar
off — swarthy and richly apparelled, who made their
way to the stable with costly gifts and spices, which
they presented to the new-born babe, and bowed the
knee before him in homage, as to a royal child. Rapidly
new the glad tidings of great joy — passed from lip to
lip, until the whole city was full of them — scorned by
haughty Pharisees with scoffs and doubting — hailed
with devout gladness by the faithful few who waited
for the consolation of Israel — agitating all classes of
the people — startling the vassal monarch on his throne
— " Unto yon is born this day in the city of David a
Saviour, who is Christ the Lord."

Brethren, it is ours in this day to rejoice in the bless-
ing which on that day descended on mankind. Blind-
ness, indeed, hath happened nnto Israel, so that they
see not the glorious vision. And there are many among
Ourselves to turn away their eyes from the sight. But
the advent of the Saviour has been the chiefest joy of
the multitudes who once struggled like ourselves on
earth, and who now triumph through his grace in
heaven ; and multitudes more, rejoicing in his true
humanity, and happy in their brotherhood with Im-
manuel, cease not to thank God for the unspeakable
gift, that, "forasmuch as the children are partakers of
flesh and blood, he also himself likewise took part of
the same."

The great fact, of course, which the Apostle wishes

142 THE INCARNATION OF CHRIST.

to impress upon us, is our Saviour's assumption of hu-
manity. And there are certain salient characteristics
of that incarnation, upon which, in order that we may
have it presented in all its aspects of blessing before
our minds, we may not unprofitably dwell.

I. We observe, in the first place, then, that the
Saviour's assumption of humanity was an act of in-
finite condescension. It is obviously impossible that
the language in which the Apostle here refers to Christ
could be used legitimately of any being possessed essen-
tially of the nature of flesh and blood. The language
before us, applied to any mere man, even the holiest,
even the most heroic, would be impertinent and with-
out meaning. There is obviously implied the fact of
his preexistence, and of his preexistence in a nature
other and higher than that which he assumed. In a
subsequent verse the implication is further made, that
this preexistence was in a nature other and higher than
the angelic. For in his descent from the highest to
recover and save, he took not hold on angels — they
perished without redemption and without hope; but
he took hold on the seed of Abraham. In the former
chapter the Apostle rather largely illustrates his supe-
riority to the angel : " When he bringeth in the first-
begotten into the world, he saith, Let all the angels of
God worship him." Just as when a crown prince goes
a travel into some foreign realm, all the choicest of the
nobility are selected to wait upon his bidding and fol-
low in his train, so when He bringeth his first-begotten

THE INCARNATION OF CHRIST. 143

into the world — a foreign realm to him — lie says, " Let
all the angels of God " — all the principalities and powers
in heavenly places — worship, bow down to, wait upon,
minister to him. Again, " of the angels he saith, Who
maketh his angels spirits, and his ministers a flame of
fire. But unto the Son he saith, Thy throne, O God,
is forever and ever ; a sceptre of righteousness is the
sceptre of thy kingdom." Erorn the scope and tenor
of these passages — indeed, from the scope and tenor of
the Apostle's entire argument, we are swift to conclude,
and we are bold to affirm, the proper and unoriginated
Godhead of the Saviour ; that it was God made man
for man to die. Yes, brethren, that stoop of illimitable
graciousness was from the highest to the lowest. And
in mysterious union with the child-heart of that uncon-
scious babe the veiled Divinity slumbered. That weary
and hungry traveller along the journey of life — it was
Jehovah's fellow ! That meek sufferer whose head is
bowed to drink the cup of bitterness to the dregs — it
was the true God, and eternal life ! Strange marriage
between the finite and the infinite; incomprehensible
union between the divine and human !

There are scoffers in the world, I know, who dismiss
the mystery of the incarnation, and deride it as the fig-
ment of fancy, or as the vision of fanaticism. They are
of two kinds mostly : some who try everything by the
standard of their own ideas, and who exalt their own
reason — at best of no great tallness, and which preju-
dice has dwarfed into yet pigmier stature — into abso-

144 THE INCARNATION OF CHRIST.

lute dictatorship over the realm of mind ; and others
more degraded, who seek a license for their desperate
wickedness amidst the skepticisms of a still more des-
perate infidelity, who dismiss the narrative of the in-
carnation because it is a mystery, something that is not
patent to the senses, which they aver to be the only
means of knowledge. All the while they live in a
mysterions world where there are thousands of secrets
which their hearts cannot unravel. In the ordinary
resources of life, in the daily benefits which Providence
pours forth ungrudgingly, they take their churlish share
of blessings whose wherefore they understand not. They
are themselves a mystery, perhaps, greater than aught.
They cannot, any one of them, understand that subtile
organism which they call man, nor how that strange
essence or principle, which they call life, floods them
every moment with rapture ; and yet, with marvellous
inconsistency, credulous on matters where no mystery
might be expected to abide, they are skeptical in mat-
ters where mystery exists of necessity, and where the
absence of it would be a suspicious sign : " For canst
thou by searching find out God ; canst thou find out
the Almighty unto perfection ?"

Brethren, the incarnation of Christ is a mystery — an
inexplicable and solemn mystery. But were there no
mystery, on the other hand, think you, in the event of
Christ being a mere man? How stands the case?
There is an individual obscurely born ; reared in vil-
lage humbleness ; looked on by his kindred according

THE INCARNATION OF CHRIST. 14:5

to the flesh with coldness, if not with dislike ; with no
aristocratic connections, with no noble patronage ; tell-
ing to all to whom he ministered, with a strange can-
dor, that he required absolute service ; that he had no
preferments in his gift ; that he had no bribes to win
the allegiance of the sordid ; that it was more than
likely, if they followed him, that they would have to
forsake all else, to part at once with all that was lucra-
tive and all that was endearing ; to be secluded from
ecclesiastical privilege ; to be traduced by slander ; to
be hunted by persecution ; nay, to hold life cheap, for
whosoever killed them, in the blind zeal of his partisan-
ship, thought he had done God service. Now, look at
that individual. In spite of all these disadvantages, by
the mere force of his teaching and of his life, he gathers
a multitude of followers ; charms the fisher from the
lake ; charms the soldier from the standard ; charms —
strangest of all — the publican from the loved seat of
custom ; and not only these, who might, perhaps, be
imagined to risk little hj the venture, but charms the
physician from his practice, the scholarly student from
the feet of his master, the ruler from his pride and
luxury, the honorable counsellor from the deliberations
of the Sanhedrim. The chief authorities combine
against him ; but his doctrine spreads. His name is
attainted as a traitor ; but he is held dearer than ever.
His death gratifies his bloodthirsty and relentless foes ;
but his disciples rally, and his cause lives on. His
tomb is jealously guarded and hermetically sealed, but

7

146 THE INCARNATION OF CHRIST.

it is somehow found empty notwithstanding. He shows
himself alive by many infallible proofs. He soars, after
forty days, from the crest of a mountain, and he has
established an empire in the minds of thousands upon
thousands, which promises to be extensive as the world,
and to be permanent as time. And you ask us to be-
lieve that all this could be accomplished by the unaided
resources of a mere man like ourselves ! "Were not
that a mystery than all other mysteries greater and sur-
passing far ? Then, look at that individual in the days
of his flesh. He exerts, on the testimony of numerous
and unexceptionable witnesses, miraculous power. He
has power over the elements, for the winds are still at
his bidding, and the lawless sea obeys him. He has
power over inorganic matter and over vegetable life,
for lie blasts the fig-tree by a syllable, and five loaves
and two fishes swell up, as he speaks, into a royal re-
past for full five thousand men. He has power over
the ferocious passions, for he strikes down the advancing
soldiery, and at his glance the foul demoniac is still.
He has power over sickness, for the numbed limbs of
the paralytic quicken, as he speaks, into strengthened
manhood, and the leprosy scales off from its victim,
and leaves him comely as a child. He has power over
death, for at his word the maiden rises from her shroud ;
and the young man stops at the gate of the city to greet
his mercy on his way to burial ; and weeping sisters
clasp their ransomed brother, a four days' dweller in
the tomb. And you ask us to believe that all this can

THE INCARNATION OF CHRIST. 147

have been accomplished by the unaided resources of a
mere man like ourselves ! Were not that a mystery
than all other mysteries greater and surpassing far?
M Ah," but say some, " he was a good man, we acknow-
ledge ; a great teacher, a model man, a representative
man, the highest man, God specially honored him. He
may almost be said, indeed, to have had an inferior and
derived Divinity. It is no wonder, therefore, that he
should thus perform miracles, and that he should thus
have founded a dominion." Nay, pardon me, but this
only deepens the mystery, for this model man, whose
frown was dismissal from his presence, of whose inimit-
able morals Rousseau, the infidel, said, that if the life
and death of Socrates were those of an angel, the life
and death of Jesus were those of a God — this model
man claimed all his life to be Divine, made the impres-
sion of his pretensions upon the minds of the Jews so
strong that they stoned him for blasphemy, received
Divine honors without once rebuking the offerers,
" thought it not robbery to be equal with God," and
distinctly p7*edicted that he should come again in the
clouds of heaven. Oh, Jesus of Nazareth cannot pos-
sibly be simply a good and benevolent man. There is
no escape from this alternative — no middle position in
which he can abide — he is either an impostor or God.
ISTow, unbeliever, you who dismiss the mystery of the
incarnation, and treat it with solemn scorn or with de-
risive laughter, solve this mystery of your own. You
pass through life in your pride and in your skepticism,

148 THE INCARNATION OF CHRIST.

scouting this mystery of Godhead, and yet shut up to
the far greater mystery — -either a good man who has
spoken falsehood, or an impostor who has cheated the
world. But we, with reverent trust, and from the
lowest depth from which gratitude can spring, can say,
" Great is the mystery of godliness, God manifest in
the flesh."

II. I observe, secondly, the Saviour's assumption of

HUMANITY WAS NOT ONLY CONDESCENDING, BUT VOLUN-
TARY. This, indeed, follows inevitably from the fore-
gone conclusion of his Divinity. Being Divine, he
could be under no restraint of overwhelming necessity.
To accommodate the theological language to human
infirmity, we are apt to speak of God sometimes as if
influenced by external things. But really it is not so ;
every Divine act is spontaneous and self-originating.
Jesus Christ, therefore, could be under the bond of no
possible obligation. Law was himself in spoken precept.
Justice wTas himself engraven on the universe. Mercy
was himself, the radiation of his own loving-kindness
upon his people. Every decision of wisdom, every
administration of physical government, every act of
omnipotence, was his own ; not in independent action,
but in the harmonious union of the Divine nature. It
is manifest, so far as his Divine nature was concerned,
that his assumption of humanity must have been dis-
interested and voluntary ; the strong upwelling of his
tenderness for the hapless creatures he had made.
There is something in the spontaneity of his offering

THE INCARNATION OF CHRIST. . 149

which redeems it from the suspicion of injustice, and
which vindicates the Father from the accusations of
those who charge him with vindictiveness and cruelty.
It would seem, indeed, as if the Saviour had foreseen,
in the days of his flesh, that there would rise auda-
cious rebels, who would thus cast a slur upon his
Father's kindness, for he defends him by antici-
pation : " Therefore doth my; Father love me, because
I lay down my life, that I might take it again. No
man taketh it from me, but I lay it down of myself. 1
have power to lay it down, and I have power to take it
again."

But as to the human nature which vicariously suf-
fered, you remember that at the time there was the
proposition of incarnation, there was also the proposi-
tion of equivalent recompense. The promise of the joy
was coeval with the prospect of suffering. Hence the
Apostle: "Who for the joy that was set before him
endured the cross, despising the shame." A world ran-
somed from the destroyer, a mediatorial kingdom erected
upon the ruins of earth's spoiled thrones, a name that
is above every name, honored in heaven by prostrate
obedience and undying song, honored on earth by every
confessing lip and every bending knee — this was the
joy set before him; and for the sake of all this he
endured patiently the cross, despised, looked down with
holy contempt upon, mysterious and inconceivable
shame. Besides, there can be no availableness in
exacted suffering. There is sojnetbing in the yoluntari-

150 THE INCARNATION OF CHRIST.

ness of the incarnation which at once exalts our reve-
rence and augments our affection for our Surety and
Friend. We judge of the excellency of virtue by the
willinghood with which it is practised. ¥e cannot
enter into a proper comparison, because we are all under
the bond of one common obligation ; but we all know
that the virtue shines the most brightly which is prac-
tised amidst hazard and suffering, rather than that
which is accorded where duty is inviting, and where
obedience is profitable. Yiewed in this light, what a
wealth of disinterested generosity there is in the incar-
nation of Christ. The voice was heard from the midst
of the throne : " Here I am ; send me. Lo I come. In
the volume of the book it is written of me, to do thy
will, O my God." In another passage : " I delight to
do thy will." Now, just think of what the will of God
in this instance comprehended. The veiling the essen-
tial glory, the tabernacling in human flesh, the home-
less wandering, the pangs of desertion and treachery,
the abhorred contact with evil, the baptism of fire,
beside the crown of sorrow, the dread hiding of the
Father's countenance in portentous eclipse. And into
this more than Egyptian darkness Jesus delighted to
enter, for the sake of fallen man. When he assumed
the form of a servant, and, actually incarnate, entered
upon the work of redemption, it was with no reluctant
step, in no hireling spirit: It was his meat and his
drink ; as necessary and pleasing to him as his daily
sustenance, to do the will of his Father which was in

THE INCARNATION OF CHRIST. 151

heaven. Steadily pursuing one purpose, he was heed-
less of all that hindered ; he felt irrepressible longings
for its accomplishment ; and his soul was like a prisoned
bird that dashes itself for freedom against the grating
of the cage : " I have a baptism to be baptized with ;
how am I straitened till it be accomplished." Steadily
pursuant of that purpose, he was heedless of all that
hindered. Now passing through a threatening mob,
now turning from an offered crown, now resisting wisely
the temptations of the enemy, now casting behind him
the more dangerous, because more affectionate remon-
strances of his disciples, and now repelling the sugges-
tive aid of twelve legions of angels from heaven. Oh,
as sinners like ourselves, at far off, reverent distance,
watch him in his redemptive course — as, one wave after
another wave, the proud waters go over his soul, and
he dashes off the spray, and holds on his course, unfal-
tering and steady, to the end — with what depth of
gratitude should we render him the homage of our
hearts, and with what earnestness and self-accusation
should we take to ourselves the burden of every
melancholy sigh !

" For all his wounds to sinners crj^
I suffered this for you."

III. I observe, thirdly, the Saviour's assumption of

HUMANITY WAS NOT ONLY CONDESCENDING AND VOLUN-
TARY, but it was complete. It was no mock assump-
tion of humanity. The whole nature was taken on.

152 THE INCARNATION OF CHRIST.

He had a human body with all its infirmities ; he had a
human soul with its completeness of faculty and its
capability of endurance, with its every capacity, with
its every affection. There were three reasons which
seemed to render this entire assumption of human
nature necessary. It was necessary, first, because the
man had sinned, and upon the man, therefore must
come the brand, of Jehovah's displeasure. It was neces-
sary, secondly, that the world might have the best and
utmost manifestation of God, and that humanity, too
gross and bewildered to comprehend ideas that were
purely spiritual, might see in the Incarnate Son the
highest embodied possibility of being. It was neces-
sary, thirdly, that the felt need of the people in all ages
of the world's history might be supplied — the need of
perfect pureness allied to perfect sympathy — of the
strength which was omnipotent to deliver, married to
the tenderness that was brave and deep to feel. The
complete humanity of Jesus has been attested by abun-
dant authentications. In every legitimate sense of the
word he was a maa with man. He did not take our
sinful nature upon him; that is only an inseparable
accident of humanity; it came in after the creation,
and it should go out before the end. Therefore, in
every legitimate sense of the word, he was man with
man. He was born helpless as other children are. His
early years were spent in the house o his reputed
father, working at his handicraft for bread. He grew
in wisdom and in stature as other children grow ; not at

THE INCARNATION OF CHRIST. 153

once, but by the slow ripening of years developed into
the maturity of man. When he entered on his public
ministry and went out among his fellows, he sustained,
as they did, the relationships of mutual dependence
and help. He was no self-elected reformer. He was
no turbulent inflamer of unholy passions. Faulty as
was the government under which he lived, he was a
loyal subject, paid the tribute money without murmur-
ing, and submitted himself to every ordinance of man.
He was no dark ascetic ; he was a brother of the multi-
tudes, mingling in all the grief and cheerfulness of life.
If men invited him to their houses, he went and sat
down with them at their boards. If they asked him to
their marriage festivals, he graced them with his pre-
sence, and turned the water into wine ; and mingled his
tears with theirs when the light of their homes was
quenched, and when some loved one was suddenly
withdrawn. His care for them who trusted him ceased
not with his own danger, for, having loved his own, he
loved them to the end. His filial affection was conspi-
cuous throughout every part of his life, and shone
radiant as a star through the darkness of his agony.
He was the man Christ Jesus. How is it that you
identify him with our nature ? "What are the peculiar
characteristics by which you understand that such a
one is partaker of humanity? Does human nature
hunger ? He hungered in the plain where the delusive
fig-tree grew. Does human nature thirst ? He felt the
pang sharply upon the cross. Is human nature wearied

154: THE INCARNATION OF CHRIST.

under the pressure of travelling and of toil ? He sat
thus upon the well. Does human nature weep unbid-
den tears ? Pity wrung them from him as he gazed
upon the fated and lost Jerusalem ; and sorrow wrung
them from him at the grave where Lazarus lay. Does
human nature shrink and fear in the prospect of im-
pending trial, cowering beneath the apprehended peril,
and pray that dread pangs may be spared it ? In the
days of his flesh, when he poured out his supplications
with strong crying and tears, " he was heard, in that he
feared." He was the man Christ. Come, ye seekers
after the sublime, behold this man — marred enough by
sorrow, but not at all by sin ; decorated with every
grace, yet disfigured by no blemish of mortality ; ray-
ing out warmth and life into the hearts and homes of
men ; with not an act that you can trace up to selfish-
ness, and not a word that you can brand as insincere ;
with his whole life of kindness, and his death an expia-
tion— behold the Divine Man ! Talk of the dignity of
human nature — it is there, and you can find it nowhere
in the universe beside. "The boast of heraldry, the
pomp of power," the skill to make canvas speak or
marble breathe, or to play upon men's hearts as upon a
harp of many tunes, the mad ambition that would climb
to fame by slopes where the trampled lie, and where
the red rain drops from many a heart's blood — what are
their claims to his ? Hush, ye candidates for greatness,
and let him speak alone. Erase meaner names from
thy tablets, thou applauding world, and chronicle this

THE INCARNATION OF CHRIST. 155

name instead. Shrine it in your living hearts, those of
yon who trust in his atonement, and who come by his
mediation unto God ; grave it there, deeper than all
other names — the man Christ Jesus.

IV. I observe, fourthly, the incarnation of the
Saviour was not only condescending, and voluntary,

and complete, but it was also, and chiefly, atoning.

The great purpose for which he came into the world
could not be properly accomplished but through death.
It was through death that he was to destroy him that
had the power of death, that is, the devil. Intimations
of this had come previously into the world, in the
visions of seers, from the lips of prophets, in the adum-
brations and typical shadowings of some great Offerer,
who, in the end of the world, should appear to put away
sin by the sacrifice of himself. All other purposes, how-
ever separably noticeable, become subordinate and sub-
sidiary to this. Hence Christ did not become partaker
of flesh and blood that he might give to the world a
spotless example. Although holiness, illustrious and
unspotted, does beam out from every action of his life,
he was not incarnate in order that he might impress
upon the world the teachings of pure morality ; although
such were the spirituality of his lessons, and the power
wi^h which he taught them, that " never man spake
like this man." He did not assume our nature merely
that he might work his healing wonders, showing,
before the bleared vision of the world, omnipotence in
beneficent action. All these things, however separably

156 THE INCARNATION OF CHRIST.

noticeable, were not vast enough or grand enough to
have brought the Saviour from heaven. Miracles, pre-
cepts, kindnesses, all these were collateral blessings —
flowers that sprung up, as at the tread of the fabled,
goddess, wherever he appeared. Large and full in his
sight, through all the years of his incarnate life, more
distinctly, more vividly, in the last years of his ministry,
loomed the shadow of the figure of the cross : " That is
the end of my toil; that is the consummation of my
purpose, I am straitened till I get to that ; I have not
fulfilled my mission and expressed all the Divine energy
that I am to pour out upon the world until I reach that.
There is the goal of all my endeavors ; there I see
my true office before me — the surety of insolvent
humanity, the friend of a forsaken race, the refuge and
succor of endangered man." If you will think for a
while, you will see how all the other characteristics of
the incarnation converged here, and were each of them
necessary in order to give this, the master-purpose, its
efficacy and its power. It was necessary that a being
of holy estate should condescend, Divinity sustaining
humanity under the pressure of agony, and imparting to
humanity a plenitude of atoning meritoriousness. It
was necessary that the offering should be voluntary,
because there could be no availableness in exacted suf-
fering ; and the offering must be profoundly willing
before it could be infinitely worthy. It was necessary
that the whole nature should be taken on, because the
man had sinned and the man must die ; and as

THE INCARNATION OF CHRIST. 157

humanity, in its federal representative, the first Adam,
had been drawn to death, so humanity, in its federal
representative, the second Adam, might have the free
gift coming upon all men unto justification of life.

Now, you see how far we have got in our search for
an accepted propitiation. ¥e have got a willing vic-
tim. "We have got a willing victim in the nature that
had sinned ; we have got a willing victim in the nature
that had sinned with no obligation of his own, and all
whose merit, therefore, could be to spare for the redemp-
tion of the sinner. Justice herself required only another
exaction, and that is, that this willing victim should be
free from taint, whether of hereditary or actual crime.
Now, the miraculous conception freed from the heredi-
tary taint of human nature ; and, thus freed from
hereditary defilement, he was born, not of blood, not in
the ordinary method of human generation, nor of the
will of the flesh, nor of the will of man, but of God.
And he moved about in the midst of his fellows in an
atmosphere of impurity, yet escaping its contagion.
Like the queenly moon shining down upon the haunts
of beggars, and dens of thieves, yet preserving its
chastity and its brilliance unimpaired, he moved among
the scum and offscouring of human society, and could
say, " "Which of you convicteth me of sin P He was
holy, harmless, undefiled, separate from sinners ; evoking
from heaven its attesting thunders ; charming the won-
dering earth with spotlessness which it had never seen
before ; and (crown of triumph !) wringing from baffled

158 THE INCARNATION OF CHRIST.

demons the reluctant acknowledgment, "We know thee
who thou art, the Holy One of God." Here, then, is
the perfected offering — a willing victim ; a willing
victim in the nature that had sinned, and free from
taint, free from obligation, man's -eternal Saviour, God's
incarnate Son. Follow him in the shadow of his pas-
sion. Close upon the agony of Gethsemane came his
arrest by the treachery of one whom he had honored.
Patiently he bears the ribaldry and insult in the dis-
honored judgment-hall of Pilate. Wearily he treads
the pathway to Calvary, bearing his own cross. !Xow,
the cross is reared. The multitude are gathered about
the hill of shame. The nails are fastened into the
quivering flesh ; and in agony and torture ebbs his pure
life away. The last ministering angel leaves him, for he
must tread the wine-press alone. Darkness gathers sud-
denly round ; and — oh, mystery of mystery ! — the
Father hides his face from the Beloved. Darkness
deepens in the sky and in the mind — how long, the
affrighted gazers know not. A cry bursts through the
gloom, sharp, shrill, piercing. All is silent — it is
finished ! The night, that had climbed up strangely to
the throne of noon, as suddenly dispersed. The multi-
tude, that eager and wondering had gathered round the
hill of shame, separated to their several homes, talking
about the tragedy they had witnessed. The moon rose
on high as calmly as if the sun had not set on a scene of
blood. But, oh ! what a change those few hours had
wrought in the fortunes of the world. Christ had died,

THE INCARNATION OF CHRIST. 159

the just for the unjust, that he might bring us to God.
Go, tell it to that despairing sinner — that .man, I mean,
who has the cord about his neck, and the pistol at his
throat, who is just about to escape from the terrible har-
rowings of an alarmed conscience, by the dreadful alter-
native of self-murder. Go to him ; be quick ; tell him
he need not die, for Christ has died, has died to bear his
sins away. Proclaim salvation from the Lord for
wretched dying men. Sound it out from the summit
of that hill-side of Calvary, and let the sister hills echo
it, until round the earth has spread the rapturous
hosanna — Salvation ! Go with it to the wretched, and
miserable, and poor, and blind, and naked; it is just the
thing they need — Salvation ! Ring it out through every
avenue of this vast metropolis of a world, till it rouse
the slumbering dust, and awake the coffined dead —
Salvation ! Take it to your own hearts — be sure of
that; and, in the fullness of your own experience, let us
hear your song : " There is, therefore, now no condem-
nation to them that are in Christ Jesus, who walk not
after the flesh, but after the Spirit."

How is it with you, brethren ? How is it with you
to-night ? Have you any personal interest in the incar-
nation of the Saviour? Has the realizing change by
which you are enabled to understand the purposes of
the Saviour's advent come upon your heart % Have the
purposes of his advent been fulfilled in yonr experience ?
He came " to destroy him that had the power of death,"
that is, the devil — to counter-work him on his own

160 THE INCARNATION OF CHRIST.

ground ; is he slain in you — vanquished and overcome
in you ? He came " to deliver them who through fear
of death were all their lifetime subject to bondage ;" are
you freed from the tyranny ? Have you entered into
the liberty wherewith Christ has promised to make you
free ? He has accomplished his purpose. Many a one
has gone blithely to the stake in the name of Jesus ;
many a one has marched steadily with eyes open to
meet the last enemy, trusting in Jesus. No, not much
fear of death about Stephen, when in the gloom of that
fierce council he looked up and saw heaven opened, and
the Son of Man standing at the right hand of the throne
of God, and all that were in the council, looking stead-
fastly on him, saw his face as it had been the face of an
angel. Not much fear of death in Paul. That is more
patent to your experience, perhaps ; for he was a blas-
phemer once, we know — a persecutor once, an injurious
man once ; but he obtained mercy, and he is presented
in what I take to be one of the sublimest passages of
Scripture: "I am in a strait betwixt two" — frail,
erring, sinful, mortal man poised, so to speak, in balance
between both worlds, having the choice of either, and
not knowing which to take — " I am in a strait betwixt
two, having a desire to depart and to be with Christ,
which is far better ; but to remain in the flesh is more
needful for you." Not much fear of death there. He
came "to deliver them who, through fear of death,
were all their life-time subject to bondage." How is it
with you ? Does the Spirit take of the things of Christ

THE INCARNATION OF CHRIST. 161

and show them to you? Does he witness to you of
your own personal adoption into the family of God ? If
you hesitate to say that, can you say, as the old woman,
in Scotland said, when questioned upon the fact of her
adoption : " I can say this : either I am changed or the
world is changed." Can you say that? Has the
cautery begun its work? Is the proud flesh getting
eaten out by the live coal from the altar ? Are you
ceasing to do evil and learning to do well— bringing
forth fruits meet for repentance ? Do you hate sin with
ever-increasing hatred, and press forward to the cultiva-
tion of the things that are of good report and lovely ?
Alas ! it will be sad for you if the incarnation of Christ
should be to you a mystery forever, if there be no light
coming upon his purposes, no experience of the fulfill-
ment of them in your own hearts. Oh, seek first the
kingdom of God and his righteousness. Hallow this
dedicatory service by the dedication of your own hearts
to God. Let there be this sacrifice, a living sacrifice,
holy and acceptable, which is your reasonable service.

VI.
ZEAL IN THE CAUSE OF CHRIST.

"For whether we be beside ourselves, it is to God: or whether we be
sober, it is for your cause. For the love of Christ constraineth us ; be-
cause we thus judge, that if one died for all, then were all dead; and
that he died for all, that they who live should not henceforth live unto
themselves, but unto him who died for them, and rose again." — 2 Cor.
v. 13-15.

It is always an advantage for the advocate of any
particular cause to know the tactics of his adversary
He will be the better prepared for the onset, and repel
the attack the more easily. Forewarned of danger, he
will intrench himself in a position from which it will be
impossible to dislodge him. The Apostle Paul pos-
sessed this advantage in a very eminent degree. In the
earlier years of his apostleship, the Jew and the Greek
were the antagonists with whom he had to contend.
Having been himself a member of the straitest sect of
the Jews, he knew full well the antipathy with which
they regarded anything which set itself by its simplicity
in contrast with their magnificent ritual ; and he knew
also the haughty scorn with which they turned away
from what they deemed the unworthy accessories of the

162

ZEAL IN THE CAUSE OF CHRIST. 1C3

JNazarene. And, well read as lie was in classic litera-
ture, and acquainted with, all the habits and tendencies
of the Grecian mind, he could readily understand how
the restraints of the Gospel would be deemed imperti-
nent by the voluptuous Corinthian, and how the
philosophic Athenian would brand its teachers mad.
And yet, rejoicing in the experimental acquaintance
with the Gospel, he says, for his standing-point of ad-
vantage : " We preach Christ crucified, to the Jews a
stumbling-block and to the Greeks foolishness, but to
them that are called, the power of God and the wisdom
of God." And in the words of the text, addressing
some of those very Corinthians upon whom the Gospel
had exerted its power, he seems to accept the stigma
and vindicate the glorious madness : " For whether we
be beside ourselves, it is to God : or whether we be
sober it is for your cause. For the love of Christ con-
straineth us ; because we thus judge, that if one died
for all, then were all dead: and that he died for all,
that they who live should not henceforth live unto them-
selves, but unto him who died for them, and rose again/'
The great purpose of the Apostle in these words is to
impress upon us the fact that the cause of Christ in the
world, sanctioned by the weight of so many obligations,
fraught with the destinies of so many millions, should
be furthered by every legitimate means ; that for it, if
necessary, should be employed the soberest wisdom;
and for it, if necessary, the most impassioned zeal. He
vindicates the use of zeal in the cause of Christ by the

164 ZEAL IN THE CAUSE OF CHRIST.

three following considerations: First, from the condi-
tion of the world ; secondly, from the obligations of the
Church; and, thirdly, from the master-motive of the
Saviour's constraining love. To illustrate and enforce
this apostolic argument, as not inappropriate to the
object which has called us together, will be our busi-
ness for a few brief moments to-night.

I. The Apostle argues and enforces the use of zeal in
the cause of Christ, in the first place, from the condition
of the world. The Apostle speaks of the world as in a
state of spiritual death. He argues the universality of
this spiritual death from the universality of the atone-
ment of Christ. " For the love of Christ constraineth
us, because we thus judge, that if one died for all, then
were all dead " — dead in sin, with every vice luxuriant
and every virtue languishing ; dead in law, judicially
in the grasp of the avenger ; nay, " condemned already,"
and hastening to the second death. "We need not re-
mind you that this is by no means the world's estimate
of its own condition. It is short-sighted, and, therefore,
self-complacent. There is a veil over its eye ; there is
a delusion at its heart. In that delusion it fancies itself
enthroned and stately, like some poor lunatic, an
imaginary monarch under the inflictions of its keeper.
The discovery of its true position comes only when the
mind is enlightened from on high. " "We thus judge,"
not because there is in us any intuitional sagacity, or
any prophetical foresight, by which our judgment is
made more accurate than the judgment of others; but

ZEAL IN THE CAUSE OF CHRIST. 165

the Holy Spirit has come down, has wrought upon us —
has shown us the plague of our own hearts — and from
the death within we can the better argue the death
which exists around. And that this is the actual con-
dition of the world, Scripture and experience combine
to testify. The Bible, with comprehensive impartiality,
concludes all "under sin ;" represents mankind as a seed
of evil-doers — " children that are corrupters ;" — sheep
that have wandered away from the Shepherd and Bishop
of their souls. In the adjudication of Scripture there is
no exemption from this common character of evil, and
from this common exposure to danger. The man of
merciful charities, and the woman of abandoned life —
the proudest peer, and the vilest serf in his barony — the
moralist observer of the decalogue, and the man-slayer,
red with blood, all are comprehended in the broad and
large denunciation: "Ye were by nature children of
wrath, even as others." And out in the broad world,
wherever the observant eye travels, you have abundant
confirmation of the testimony of Scripture. You have
it in your own history. The transgressions and sins
which constitute this moral death abound in our age no
less than in any former age of mankind. There are
thousands around you who revel in undisguised corrup-
tion. There are thousands more externally reputable
who have only a name to live. You have this confirm-
ation in the nations of the Continent — some safely bound
by the superstition of ages ; others subsiding into a re-
actionary skepticism. You have this confirmation

166 ZEAL IN THE CAUSE OF CHRIST.

further away in the countries which own Mohammedan
rule, and cherish the Mohammedan's dream — where you
have unbridled lust, and a tiger's thirst for blood. You
have this confirmation in the far-off regions of heathen-
ism proper, where the nature, bad in itself, is made a
thousand-fold worse by its religion — where the man is
the prey of every error, and the heart the slave of every
cruelty — where men live in destruction, and where men
die in despair. Travel where you will, visit the most
distant regions, and search under the shadow of the
highest civilization — penetrate into the derjths of those
primeval forests, into whose original darkness you might
have imagined the curse would hardly penetrate, and
the result is uniformly the same. Death is everywhere.
You see it, indeed, in all its varieties ; now in the rare
and fading beauty which it wears just after the spirit
has fled from the clay, when its repose seems the worn-
out casket, which the soul has broken, and thrown away ;
now, when there is shed over it a hue of the sublime,
and it is carried amid tears to burial ; and now, when
corruption has begun its work, and its ill odor affects
the neighborhood, and spreads the pestilence — you see
it in all its varieties, but uniformly death is there. "We
gather from our melancholy pilgrimage no vestige of
spiritual life. Mourners go about the streets, and there
are mourners over many tombs.

Although, as we have observed just now, a thorough
and realizing estimate of the world's condition comes
only when the judgment is enlightened from on high,

ZEAL IN THE CAUSE OF CHRIST. 167

the wise men of the world, the minds that have in all
ages towered above their fellows, have felt an unsatisfac-
toriness for which they conld hardly acconnt ; they have
had a vague and morbid conscionsness that all was not
right somehow, either with themselves or with their
race ; they have met with disturbing forces, signs of
irregularity, tokens of misery and of sin that hare
ruffled, somewhat, the philosophic evenness of their
minds. Each in his own way, and from his own stand-
point, has guessed at the solution of the problem, and
has been ready with a suggested remedy. The peoples
are imbruted ; educate them. The nations are bar-
barous ; civilize them. Men grovel in sensual pleasure;
cultivate the aesthetic faculty ; open up to them galleries
of pictures ; bring them under the humanizing influ-
ences of art. Men groan in bondage ; emancipate them,
and bid them be free ! Such are some of the tumul-
tuous cries that have arisen from earnest but blind
philanthropists, who have ignored the spiritual part of
man's nature, and forgotten altogether the Godward
relations of his soul. All these, as might have been
expected, valuable enough as auxiliaries, worth some-
thing to promote the growth and comfort of a man when
life has been once imparted, fail, absolutely fail to
quicken the unconscious dead. In all cases the bed has
been shorter than that a man could lie on it, and the
covering narrower than that he could wrap himself in
it. The inbred death lay too deep for such superficial
alchemy; corpses cannot by any possibility animate

168 ZEAL IN THE CAUSE OF CHIUST.

corpses ; and the compassionate bystander from other
worlds, sickened with the many inventions, might be
constrained to cry, "Amid all this tumult of the human,
O for something Divine !" And the Divine is given —
Christ has died for all men. There is hope for the
world's life. This is a death whereby we live ; this is a
remedy commensurate with existing need, and intended
entirely to terminate and extinguish that need.

That squalid savage, whose creed is a perpetual
terror, and whose life is a perpetual war — Christ hath
died for him. That fettered and despairing slave, into
whose soul the iron has entered, valued by his base
oppressor about on a par with the cattle he tends, or
with the soil he digs — Christ hath died for him. That
dark blasphemer, who lives in familiar crime, whose
tongue is set on fire of hell, whose expatriation would
be hailed by the neighborhood around him as a boon of
chiefest value — Christ has died for him. That dark
recluse, whom an awakened conscience harasses, and
who, in the vain hope of achieving merit by suffering,
wastes himself with vigilant penance well-nigh to the
grave— Christ has died for him. Oh, tell these tidings
to the world, and it will live. Prophesy of this name
in the motionless valley, and the Divine Spirit who
always waits to do honor to Jesus, will send the afflatus
from the four winds of heaven, and they shall leap into
life to his praise.

Now take these two points. Think, in the first place,
of the condition of the world— a condition so disastrous,

ZEAL IN THE CAUSE OF CHRIST. 169

that nothing but death can illustrate it — a condition
which prostrates every faculty, which smites the body
with unnumbered cruelties, which dwarfs the mind with
prejudices or distorts it into unholy passion, which
banishes the soul and mind within a man in hopeless
estrangement from happiness and God ; and then think
of the death of Christ, providing for the furthest need,
overtaking the utmost exile, pouring its abundant life
upon the sepulchred nations, diffusing light, liberty,
hope, comfort, heaven : and I appeal to your enlightened
judgment whether you are not bound, those of you who
believe in Jesus, to labor for the world's conversion
with intensest energy and zeal. Oh, if temporal miseries
elicit sympathy, and prompt to help ; if the anxieties of
a neighborhood gather around a drowning child, or are
fastened upon the rafters of a burning house, where,
solitary and imploring, stands a single man, already
charred by the flame, how much of sympathy, of effort,
of liberality, of zeal, of prayer, are due to a world lying
in the wicked one, and panting after the second death !
You will agree with me, that there is more than
license for the poet's words :

" On such a theme,
'Tis impious to be calm !"

And you will rejoice — will you not? — to take your
stand, to-night by the Apostle's side, and to cry, when
men deem your zeal impertinence and your efforts

8

170 ZEAL IN THE CAUSE OF CHRIST.

fanaticism, " If we be beside ourselves, it is to God :
and if we be sober, it is for jour cause."

II. The Apostle argues the necessity for zeal in the
cause of Christ, secondly, from the obligations of the
church, in that he died for all, that they should live —
should not henceforth live unto themselves, but for him
who died for them and rose again. The Apostle's
argument is this — none of us has life in himself ; if we
live at all, we live by imparted life ; we live because
life has been drafted into our spirits from on high.
Then it is not our own ; it belongs to Him who has pur-
chased it for us with his own blood, and we are bound
to employ it in his service, and for his glory. This also
is the conclusion of an enlightened judgment. "We
judge this as well as the other, and this is in accordance
with the whole tenor of Scripture. Time would fail us
to mention a tithe of the passages in which devotion —
the devotion of the heart and of the service of God, are
made matter of constant and of prominent demand. I
will just mention one passage that may serve as an
illustration of all : "I beseech you therefore, brethren,
by the mercies of God, that ye give your bodies as a
living sacrifice." Have you ever ganged the depth of
consecration that slumbers in the heart of those words —
" a living sacrifice ;" to be absolutely and increasingly
devoted to God, as if the knife were at the throat, and
the life-blood streamed forth in votive offering ? !N"ay,
better than that ; because the life-blood could stream
out but once, but the living sacrifice may be a perpetual

ZEAL Iff THK CAUSE OF CHRIST. 171

holocaust, repeated daily for a lifetime — a living sacri-
fice, holy and acceptable unto God, which is your
reasonable service. From the doctrine of this passage,
and of numberless others kindred to it, it would appear
that ihe regenerate heart is not at liberty to live for
itself, nor to aim supremely at its own gratification ; it
must live for him who has " died for it, and who has
risen again." You cannot fail, I think, to perceive that
compliance with this exhortation is utterly antagonistic
to the ordinary procedure of mankind.

In an age of organization against idolatry, there is
one proud, rampant idolatry which retains its ascen
dency amongst us. Selfishness is the most patronized
idolatry in the world. It is the great image whose
brightness is exceeding terrible, and before which all
men bow ; it is a throne, and an empire, and the like-
ness of a kingly crown ; it equips armies and mans
armaments to gratify its lust of power. Fastnesses
have been explored and caverns ransacked to appease
its thirst for gold. It presides over the councils of
kings and over the diplomacy of cabinets ; for it the
merchantman grindeth down his manhood, for it the
tread er-under-foot of nations marcheth in his might and
in his shame ; its votaries are of all handicrafts — of the
learned professions, and of every wTalk in life. It hath
sometimes climbed on to the judgment-seat, and per-
verted justice there. The cowled monk hath hidden it
beneath his robe, and it hath become for him an engine
of oppression, and it hath occasionally robed itself in

172 ZEAL IN THB CAUSE OF CHRIST.

holy vestments, and entered the priest's office for a
morsel of bread. ~No grace nor virtue of humanity is
free from its contamination. It has breathed, and
patriotism has degenerated into partisanship ; it has
breathed, and friendship has been simulated for policy ;
it has breathed, and charity has been blemished by
ostentation ; it has breathed, and religion lias been
counterfeited for gold ; its sway is a despotism — its ter-
ritory wherever man hath trodden, and it is the undis-
puted anarch of the world. ISTow it is against this
principle in human nature, throned within us all,
doggedly contesting every inch of ground, that Christ-
ianity goes forth to combat. The Gospel absolutely
refuses to allow self to be the governing power, and
assaults it in all its strongholds with precepts of
sublime morality. To the selfishness of avarice it goes
up boldly, even while the miser clutches his gold, and
says : " Give to him that asketh of thee, and from him
that would borrow of thee turn not thou away." To
the selfishness of anger it addresses itself, even when
the red spot is yet on the brow of the angry : " Let not
the sun go down upon thy wrath ;" " Bless them that
curse you, pray for them that despitefully use you and
persecute you." To the selfishness of pride, even in its
haughtiness and arrogance, it says : " In honor prefer-
ring one another, be clothed with humility, let each
esteem another better than himself." To the selfishness
of indifference to the concerns of others, " Look not on
thine own things, but likewise upon the things of

ZEAL rN THE CAUSE OF CHRIST. 173

others;" and to the selfishness of souls and criminal
neglect of the great salvation, it speaks- in tones of
pathos which that must be a callous heart that ean
withstand, "Ye know the graces of our Lord Jesus
Christ, who, though he was rich, yet for our sins he
became poor, that we, through his poverty, might be
mad© rich." Oh, how small, alongside of august and
heavenly precepts like these, are the sublimest maxims
of any merely ethical morality !

It is said that, once, during the performance of a
comedy in the Roman theatre, one of the actors gave
utterance to the sentiment, " I am a man ; nothing,
therefore, that is human, can be foreign to me," and the
audience were so struck by the disinterestedness, or so
charmed by the novelty, that they greeted it with thun-
ders of applause. How much greater wealth of kindly
wisdom and prompting to unselfish action lies hidden
in the Gospel of Christ, shrined there as every-day
utterances passed by the most of us very slightingly
by ! Oh ! let there be anything like the genial prac-
tice of this divine morality, and the world would soon
lose its aspect of desolation and of blood ; oppression and
over-reaching, and fraud and cruelty, would be frowned
out of the societies of men, and this earth would be
once more an ample and a peopled paradise. By
selfishness, as we have thus endeavored to describe it,
we mean that grasping, monopolizing spirit which gets
all and gives nothing ; heedful enough of its own for-
tunes, careless of the concerns and interests of others.

174 ZEAL IN THE CAUSE OF CHRIST.

This is the principle in our nature which Christianity
opposes, and with which it ceaselessly wages war. But
there is a sort of selfishness which, for the sake of dis-
tinction, we may call self-love, which is instinctive, and
therefore innocent — that merciful provision by which
we are prompted to the care of our own lives and to the
avoidance of everything that would disquiet or abridge
them. This principle in our nature Christianity encou-
rages ; to this principle Christianity addresses itself;
and hence it has connected, married in indissoluble
union, man's chiefest duty and man's highest pleasure.
Godliness is profitable unto all things, having the pro-
mise of the life that now is. What has the dark, mor-
bid, unhappy sensualist to do with it ? Godliness hath
the promise of the life " that now is," as well as " that
which is to come." In keeping thy commandments
there is a present reward. " Take my yoke upon you
and learn of me, for I am meek and lowly in heart, and
ye shall find rest unto your souls ; for my yoke is easy
and my burden is light." " In thy presence there is
fullness of joy ; at thy right hand there are pleasures
for evermore." Just as it is in man's physical organiza-
tion, and its adaptation to the material world around
him, when body and mind are alike in health, we can
neither eat, nor drink, nor talk, nor walk, nor sleep, nor
sing, nor perform any of the commonest actions of life,
without a sensation of pleasure ; so it is in the spiritual
life : there is pleasure in its every motion. There is
pleasure even in the sting of penitence ; it is

ZEAL IN THE CAUSE OF CHRIST. 175

" A godly grief and pleasing smart,
That melting of a broken heart." .

There is pleasure in the performance of duty ; there is
pleasure in the enjoyment of privilege ; there is pleasure
in the overcoming of temptations, a grand, thrill of
happiness to see trampled under foot a vanquished lust
or slain desire ; there is pleasure in the exercise of bene-
volence ; there is pleasure in the importunity of prayer.
Hence it is that the Apostle seeks to rivet the sense of
personal obligation by the remembrance of personal
benefit. " We thus judge, that he died for all, that
they which live should not henceforth live unto them-
selves, but unto him who " — owns them ? No. Claims
them? ~No. Will judge them? ISTo ; but— " to him
who died for them and rose again." Gratitude is to be
the best prompter to our devotion. Those who live to
Christ, those who live by Christ, will not tamely see his
altars forsaken, his Sabbaths desecrated, his name blas-
phemed, the blood of the covenant wherewith he was
sanctified accounted an unholy thing. Brethren, are
you of that happy family ? Have you obtained life
from the dead through his name ? Then you are bound
to spend it for his honor, and, watching with godly
jealousy for every possible opportunity of doing good,
to spend and be spent for them who have not yet your
Master known. I call on you to answer this invocation ;
it belongs to you. There is no neutrality, believe me,
in this war — and if there be some of you that would
like to be dastardly and half-hearted trimmers, you will

176 ZEAL IN THE CAUSE OF CHRIST.

find by and by that you have got the hottest place in
the battle, exposed to the cross-fire from the artillery of
both parties. I call on you decisively to-night to
answer this invocation. Call up before your minds the
benefits you have individually received; think of the
blessings which the death of Christ has procured for
you — the removal of the blighting curse which sha-
dowed all your life, the present sense of pardon,
mastery over self and over sin, light in the day of your
activity, and songs in the night of your travail ; the
teaching Spirit to lead you into still loftier knowledge,
and the sanctifying spirit to impress upon you the
image of the heavenly ; that Divine fellowship which
lightens the present, and that majestic hope which
makes the future brighter far. Think of the benefits
which the resurrection of Christ has conferred upon
you ; light in the shadowed valley, the last enemy
destroyed, support amid the swellings of Jordan, a
guide upon the hither side of the flood, angelic wel-
comes, the King in his beauty, and " a house not made
with hands, eternal in the heavens." And then, as the
sum of favor is presented, and gratitude arises and the
fire burns, and the heart is full, and the frame quivers
with the intensity of its emotions, just remember that
there is a world lying in the wicked one, that there are
multitudes, thousands upon thousands, in your own
city, at your own doors, for whom the Saviour died,
who never heard his name ; that there are multitudes
for whom he has abolished death who have never felt

ZEAL IN THE CAUSE OF CHRIST. 177

his resurrection's power. Let your tears now ; better,
far better a tear for God's sake and the world's sake
than the hard-heartedness and darkness of sin. Lift np
your voice in the midst of them; lift it up, be not
afraid. Say unto the cities of Judah, " Behold your
God." Men will call you mad, but you can give them
the Apostle's answer, " If we be beside ourselves, it is
to God ; if we be sober, it is for your cause."

m. The Apostle argues the necessity of zeal in the
cause of Christ, in the third place, from the master
motive of the Saviour's constraining love. "The
love of Christ constrain eth us" — forces us along, car-
ries us away as with the impetuosity of a torrent, or
rather as when cool heavens and favoring air speed the
vessel steadily to the haven. Love is at once man's
most powerful motive and his highest inspiration, both
in the life that now is and that which is to come. From
love to Christ spring the most devoted obedience, the
most untiring efforts in his service. There are other
springs of action, I know, by which men are influenced
to a profession of religion. Interest can occasionally
affect godliness from sordid aims, and behave itself
decorously amid the respectabilities of the temple-going
and alms-giving religion; but it will give its arm to
any man that goes down to the house of Rimmon ; and
if there is a decree that at the sound of all kinds of
music they are to fall down before another image which
has been erected in the plains of Dura, they will be the
most obsequious benders of the knee. Men sometimes

S*

178 ZEAL IN THE CAUSE OF CHRIST.

practise obedience under the influence of fear. A sud-
den visitation, a prevailing epidemic, an alarming ap-
peal, will strike into momentary concern ; but when
the indignation is overpast, and the craven soul has
recovered from its paroxysms of terror, there will often
be a relapse into more than the former atrocities of evil.
Convictions of duty may and sometimes will induce a
man, like an honest Pharisee of the olden time, to ob-
serve rigidly the enactments of the law ; but there will
be no heart in his obedience, and no holy passion in his
soul ; but let the love of God be shed abroad in his
heart by the Holy Ghost given unto him, let there be
a perception of love in God, let there be sight of the
Crucified as well as of the cross, and there will be dis-
interested, and cheerful, and hearty obedience. Zeal
for God will become at once a passion and a principle,
intensifying every purpose into ardor, and filling the
whole soul with the vehemence of absorbing desire.
This is the emotion from whose natural and inevitable
outflow the Apostle vindicates impassioned zeal.

Opinions are divided 'as to whether the constraining
love spoken of in the text, refers to Christ's love to us
or to our love to him, which the sense of his love has
enkindled in the soul. I do not think we can go far
wrong if we take both meanings, inasmuch as no prin-
ciple of exposition is violated, and as we need the pres-
sure of a combination of motive, that we may be zeal-
ously affected always in this good thing. Ye, then, if
there are any of you here who need rousing to energy

ZEAL IN THE CAUSE OF CHRIST. 179

in the service of Christ, think of his love to you ; how
rich its manifestations, and how unfeigned ; how all
other love of which it is possible for you to conceive
shrinks in the comparison ! There have been develop-
ments in the histories of years of self-sacrificing affec-
tion, which has clung to the loved object amid hazard
and suffering, and which has been ready even to offer
up life in its behalf. Orestes and Pylades, Damon and
Pythias, David and Jonathan, what lovely episodes
their histories give us amid a history of selfishness and
sin ! Men have canonized them, partly because such
instances are rare, and partly because they are like a
dim hope of redemption looming from the ruins of the
fall. "We have it on inspired authority, indeed, " Greater
love hath no man than this " — this is the highest point
which man can compass, this is the culminating point
of that affection which man can by possibility attain,
the apex of his loftiest pyramid goes no higher than
this — " greater love hath no man than this, that a man
lay down his life for his friend ; but God commendeth
his love toward us, in that while we were yet sinners
Christ died for us." A brother has sometimes made
notable efforts to retrieve a brother's fortunes, or to
blanch his sullied honor ; but there is a Friend that
sticketh closer than a brother. A father has bared his
breast to shield his offspring from danger, and a mother
would gladly die for the offspring of her womb ; but a
father's affection may fail in its strength, and yet more
rarely a mother's in its tenderness.

180 ZEAL IN THE CAUSE OF CHRIST.

" I saw an aged woman, bowed
'Mid weariness and care ;
Time wrote in sorrow on her brow,
And 'mid her frosted hair.

*' What was it that like sunbeam clear
O'er her wan features ran,
As, pressing toward her deafened ear,
I named her absent son ?

" What was it ? Ask a mother's breast,
Through which a fountain flows,
Perennial, fathomless, and blest,
By winter never froze.

" What wa3 it ? Ask the King of kings,
Who hath decreed above,
What change should mark all earthly things
Except a mother's love !"

And " can a woman forget her sucking child, that she
should not have compassion on the son of her womb ?
Yea, they may forget, yet will I not forget thee." O
Jesus of Nazareth, who can declare thee ? " Herein is
love, not that we loved God, but that he loved us, and
sent his Son to be a propitiation for our sins." Think
of that love — love which desertion could not abate —
love which ingratitude could not abate — which treach-
ery could not abate — love which death could not de-
stroy— love which, for creatures hateful and hating one
another, stooped to incarnation, and suffered want, and
embraced death, and shrank not even from the loath-
someness and from the humiliation of burial ; and then,

ZBAL IN THE CAUSE OF CHRIST. 181

with brimming eye, and heart that is full, and wonder
" "Why such love to me ?" you will indeed be ungrate-
ful if you are not stirred by it to an energy of consecra-
tion and endeavor, which may well seem intemperate
zeal to the cool reckoners with worldly wisdom. Then
take the other side of the argument ; take it as refer-
ring to your love to Christ, which the sense of his love
has enkindled in the soul. The deepest affection in the
believing heart will always be the love of Jesus. The
love of home, the love of friends, the love of letters,
the love of rest, the love of travel, and all else, are
contracted by the side of this master-passion. " A little
deeper," said one of the veterans of the first Napoleon's
old guard, when they were probing in his bosom for a
bullet that had mortally wounded him, and he thought
they were getting somewhere in the region of the heart
—"a little deeper and you will find the Emperor."
Engraven on the Christian's heart deeper than all other
love of home or friends, with an ineffaceable impression
that nothing can erase, you find the loved name of Jesus.
Oh ! let this affection impel us, and who shall measure
our diligence or repress our zeal I Love is not bound
by rule ; there is no law that can bind it ; it is never
below the precept, it is always up to the precept, but
it always has a margin of its own. It does not calcu-
late, with mathematical exactitude, with how little of
obedience it can escape penalty and secure recompense ;
like its Master it gives in princely style ; it is exuberant
in it» manifestations ; there is always enough and to

182 ZEAL IN THE CAUSE OF CHRIST.

spare. And if meaner motive can prompt to heroic
action — if from pure love of science astronomers can
cross ocean familiarly, and dare encounter dangers, just
that they may watch in distant climes the transit of a
planet across the disc of the sun — and if botanists can
travel into inhospitable climes and sojourn among in-
hospitable men, only to gather specimens of their gor-
geous flora — and if, with no motive but love of country,
and no recompense save bootless tears and an undying
name, a "Willoughby could sacrifice himself to blow up
a magazine, and a Sarkeld could fire the Cashmere Gate
at Delhi, surely we, with obligations incomparably
higher, with the vows of profession on our lips, with
death busy in the midst of us, and souls going down
from our doors into a joyless and blasted immortality,
ought to present our life-blood, if need be, for the cause
of Christ, and for the good of souls. Let the scoffers
spurn at us as they will ; we are far superior to such
poor contumely. Heaven applauds our enthusiasm, and
we can vindicate it in the Apostle's words : " If we be
beside ourselves, it is to God ; and if we be sober, it is
for your cause."

VII.
THE CHRISTIAN'S INHERITANCE.

" Whom have I in heaven but thee ? and there is none upon earth that
I desire beside thee. My flesh and my heart faileth: but God is the
Strength of my heart, and my portion forever." — Psalm Ixxiii. 25, 26.

"Mr flesh and my heart faileth." Who does not
understand that? It is the common lot — the uniform
and continual experience of the race. " The voice said,
Cry. And he said, What shall I cry? All flesh is
grass, and all the goodliness thereof is as the flower of
the field ; the grass withereth, the flower fadeth, because
the spirit of the Lord bloweth upon it ; surely the peo-
ple is grass." This announcement of mortality, coming
thus solemnly in a voice from heaven, finds its echo in
the experience of mortals themselves ; for however they
may attempt to disguise it — with whatever study, per-
severance, and hypocrisy they may conceal their feel-
ings— it is an undeniable and startling truth that the liv-
ing know that they must die. Death, my brethren, is a
theme of mighty import. Eloquence has been exhausted
upon the wide-spread magnitude of its desolation ; there
is not a place where human beings congregate which
does not tell them that they are mortal. Is it a family ?

183

184: THE CHRISTIAN'S INHERITANCE.

Death enters and makes household memories painful,
and turns home into the dwelling of the stranger. Is it
a market-place? It is a busy, stirring throng which
fills it as ever, but they are new faces that meet the eye,
new voices which fall upon the ear. Is it a congrega-
tion ? Our fathers, where are they ? The prophets, do
they live forever ? Is it a world ? Every thirty years
its mighty heart is changed in continual supercession ;
one generation comes upon the heels of another, and the
bones of our fathers form the dust on which we tread.
And yet, strange to say, there is an almost universal
listlessness upon the subject, and the saying of the poet
seems well-nigh to be verified, that

" All men think all men mortal but themselves."

Look at the man of the world — does not he seem as
if he thought he should live forever — as if he thought
only on the paltry, perishable matters with which he
happens to be surrounded % Circumstances may indeed
now and then occur in his history which may compel a
transient recognition of eternity : his eye may perhaps
rest upon the Bible, or a funeral procession may cross
his path as he walks the streets of the city, or a passing
bell, with its slow and solemn tolling, may break sud-
denly upon his ear, and the thought comes on his mind
for a moment that there may possibly be such a thing
as death. But it was but for a moment ; it was a stray
thought of eternity — one whose advances are at once
forbidden as an unwelcome intruder ; he was ruffled for

THE CHRISTIAN S INHERITANCE. 185

awhile — taken aback for an instant — but time passed
away, and lie lias become as still, and as' slumbering,
and as senseless as before. Brethren, we might rebuke
that insensibility from the records of ancient history.
It is recorded of Alexander, the conqueror of one world,
that he wept because there was no other world to con-
quer. Alas ! men now-a-days have sadly degenerated ;
they have no such ambition, they mourn over no such
cause of grief. However, there is, brethren, whether
men reck of it or not, there is another world to conquer.
The battle is not with the confused noise of wrar, or gar-
ments rolled in blood ; the enemies are not flesh and
blood, but principalities and powers, and the rulers of
the darkness of this world, and spiritual wickedness in
high places. The prize is not an earthly crown, but a
kingdom of whose brilliancy the Macedonian never
knew. Yet many never enter this battle-field, and
many who do, after a few brief and ineffectual struggles,
grow tired, and ingloriously lay down their arms. Bre-
thren, we are anxious that you should not be thus
cowardly in the day of battle ; we would have you quit
yourselves like men and be strong ; and we know of
nothing that is better calculated to arouse your forti-
tude and bring into play that high and fearless heroism
which we are exhorted by the Apostle to add to our
faith, than the consolation of the words of the text,
bringing before us, as they do, the Christian's personal
inheritance, and hope, and future prospects : " Whom
have I in heaven but thee? and there is none upon

186

earth that I desire beside thee. My flesh and my heart
faileth : but God is the strength of my heart, and my
portion forever.''

"We need not spend time in endeavoring to prove to
you, that it i& one characteristic of the wicked that
" God is not in all his thoughts." He may not go so
far as openly to deny either his being or intelligence,
but could you search his heart you would discover it to
be a matter of the supremest indifference. A faint
whisper of the Divine existence never obtrudes itself
into his schemes, whether of aggrandizement or plea-
sure ; and he is content, so far as he is concerned, to
enjoy the uncared-for inheritance of this world. Nay,
oftentimes his presumption is more galling and flagrant
still : aspiring to be his own deity, he pays homage to
himself, and with Eastern devotion does he worship at
the shrine of his idol.

How, then, was this stray spirit to be Won back to
God ? This was the question which engaged the Divine
attention, and the answer to which became to the
angelic host a matter of mystery and wonder. The law
was undoubtedly powerless ; it had been broken, its re-
quirements flagrantly violated, and wherever man went
it proscribed him a fugitive and a rebel. Moreover, it
is the tendency of the law rather to irritate than to heal
• — rather to beget unfriendliness than tenderness toward
the law-giver in the breast of the criminal. Hence you
may bring God before the sinner's mind in his character
of a God of judgment; yon may manifest to the sinner

187

the frowns of his angry countenance ; you may collect
all the arguments of terror which language can gather?
and you may arm these arguments of terror with addi-
tional energy by descanting on the thunder of his
power ; you may set before him the horrible spectacle
of his own impending death, and the unknown horrors
of that eternity which is on the other side ; you may
disquiet him with all these appliances (and it is quite
right he should be disquieted); you may induce a
partial reformation of life and character (and it is neces-
sary that he should reform) ; you may set him trembling
at the power of the lawgiver (and a thousand times
rather let him tremble than sleep) ; but where, in the
midst of all this, is there obedience to the first and great
commandment ? Is the love of God shed abroad in his
heart ? Has it dawned upon the darkness of his mind ?
has its gentle influence acted like a salutary and com-
posing charm over his alarmed breast ? No ; all your
appliances have failed, there has been no conviction im-
planted except the conviction of fear. The thunders of
executive justice and the power of judicial vengeance
have failed to impress his heart ; there it is, like a fortress,
firm, impregnable, granite-like on its adamantine rock ;
and that which was intended to draw the soul into closer
communion to God, has only driven him to a more hope-
less distance from God. How, then, was this stray
spirit to be won back to God? Oh, brethren, "what
the law could not do, in that it was weak through the
flesh, God sending his own Son in the likeness of sinful

188

flesh" — mark the words; not in the reality of sinful,
but in the likeness of sinful, though in reality of human
■ — " in the likeness of sinful flesh, and for sin, condemned
sin in the flesh." By the mysterious incarnation of the
Mighty One all difficulties were removed. The dignity
of the throne remained unsullied, while the milder
beams of mercy were made to fall upon it ; and God
could at once be just, and yet the free and generous
justifier of them that believe in Jesus. The all-com-
prising offering of the Saviour's blood made at once an
atonement, an at-one-ment between God and man. The
moment the man exercises faith in Christ the reconcilia-
tion is complete. The Lord is his defence; the holy
one of Israel his refuge ; and he who a while ago was
an alien, unredeemed and desolate — a worthy companion
of the beast in his lair, a fit follower on the serpent's
trail — is now clothed, in his right mind, careering along
in the enterprise of godliness, a fellow-citizen of saints
and of the household of God. And this brings us im-
mediately to speak of our present meditation, God as
the recompense of the believing soul. " Whom have I
in heaven but thee ? and there is none upon earth that
I desire beside thee."

We find three thoughts, my dear brethren, which
tend forcibly to impress this matter upon our minds.

I. In the first place, God is the Christian's inherit-
ance as the light or his intellect. There is nothing
for which man is more accountable than for his pos-
session of mind — for his improvement and abuse of

189

those powers with which the mind is gifted. It is a
beneficent gift from a beneficent Being, but, then, by
partaking of the nature of the immortal, it entails upon
him the responsibilities of an immortal also. Few are
the subjects which it cannot penetrate ; difficulties but
urge it to a course of loftier efforts, and, like the
avalanche of snow, it gains additional momentum from
the obstacles that threaten to impede it. Our position
is this : Mind never finds its level, never finds its rest,
until it is fixed upon the things above ; active, inquiring,
speculative, impassioned ; like the eagle towering from
his eyrie on the cliff, its course is right upward to the
sun, and in the beams of uncreated light alone it finds
its home, and its kindred, and its joy. The great pur-
pose of man in the present world is to pass from a
passive to an active state of being. And it is, in fact,
this transition, effected by the agency of the Holy
Spirit, which is that regeneration of which Scripture
speaks. By nature, man is under the dominion of
habit ; the Spirit brings him under the dominion of
principle. By nature, a man exercises himself in all his
doing without reference to God ; in grace, the Spirit
dwells in the heart as the sanctifier and the guide. By
nature, a man, under temporary impulses of master-
passions, may put forth energies which awe a world,
but they are of the earth, earthy ; but the Spirit, so to
speak, implants heavenly ideas in his mind, and he gets
power and capacity to think of God. By nature, the
man cleaves to the dust, is conversant only with what is

190

contemptible and low,, and at last sinks into perdition ;
in grace he draws himself up to his fall stature, asserts
his native royalty, and, as a heaven-horn and heaven-
tending subject, claims kindred with the King of the
other world. In fine, by nature the man walks in dark-
ness, the shadows of the night are around him, and he
knoweth not whither he goeth ; in grace, the morning
has broken delightfully on the steps of the traveller,
and he is revived and invigorated by the light of
day.

Brethren, there is one point here which, if you are all
like-minded with myself, you will hail with no common
satisfaction. lam loth to part with those I love; I
am loth to regard them as strangers, because they
change their residence, and are just gone to live on the
other side of the stream. I won't pay death the compli-
ment of telling him he has divided the Church. He
cannot do that. There is only one army of the living
God:

" Part of the host have crossed the flood,
And part are crossing now ;"

but it is one army ; there is but one body growing up
into Christ — its living head. The head and the upper
members in heaven, the lower members on earth ; but
it is but one system and one body; and at no very
distant period the whole body shall be drawn into the
upper sanctuary, and stand out to the gaze of the
admiring universe in the full stature of the perfect man.
I hail with joy, therefore, anything that has a tendency

191

to bring me even in thought near to the loved and gone
before. I welcome as the visit of a ministering angel
the voice of kindness which brings me tidings from the
realms where my friends are reposing.

The thought, then, that gives me such satisfaction, is
this, that now, even now, clogged as we are by the
frailty and weakness of the body, we and those departed
ones who have died in the faith are walking in the
same light. We are told that the Lord is the light of
his people in heaven ; we know that the Lord is the
light of his people on earth. "We are told that the
glory of the Lord is the sole illumination of the heavenly
Jerusalem ; we know that the glory of the Lord illu-
minates the earthly Zion ; the lamp of light above, the
spirit of light beneath — the same light, for they are both
God. There is a beauty in this conception — don't you
see it ? — because it gives us the notion of alliance ; it
repudiates the idea of this earth of ours as cast off from
God's fatherhood, a shrouded and forgotten thing. It
takes hold of it in its degradation, and fastens round it
one end of the chain, the other end of which is bound
to the throne of the Everlasting himself. And, oh ! is
it not a beautiful thought, ay, while here to-night in the
sanctuary we are opening our Bibles, and imploring
the Spirit of God to shine down upon the truth, faith
looks through the clouds — and they are very thin ones —
and sees a host of bright spirits above, engaged in the
same employment, desiring to look into the same things.
We are one with them after all. The light Kiay fall,

192

the light does fall, with a more gushing flood-tide upon
their eyes, but it is the same light. There they are,
with the Great Teacher in the midst of them, poring
everlastingly upon the tale of pleading love. Such
students and such a teacher, who would not join ; and,
as the light of the intellect, adopt at once and forever
the words of the text : " Whom have I in heaven but
thee? and there is none upon the earth that I desire
beside thee."

II. And then again, God is the Christian's inherit-
ance, not only as the light of his intellect, but as the
refuge of his conscience. Whenever human nature
reflects on God, it must reflect on him as an object of
distrust and dread. We think of him as a being of
unimagined power, of enormous power ; we are igno-
rant, moreover, how he stands affected toward us — and
the fancy of ignorance will always be found to be the
fancy of fear. The uncertainty in which the manner
of his existence is shrouded, the vast extent of his
creation, the wise and sage policy of his government,
the retirement in which he dwells, the clouds and dark-
ness that are round about his footstool, the inscrutable
majesty which surrounds his throne — all these things
have a tendency to inspire us with alarm, so that we
may say with Job, " When I consider, I am afraid of
him." The case might have been different in the
primeval paradise, when the Lord walked in the garden
in the cool of day ; but ever since he has withdrawn
himself from mortal society, mortals view him with dis-

193

may ; and the Athenians only spoke the language of
unassisted reason, when they reared their altar " to the
unknown God."

And if we appeal to nature, to the external world, to
remove this distrustfulness of God, we shall find our-
selves but little benefited. This, you know, is one of the
very tritest prescriptions of the Theophilosophers and
Latitudinarians of the present day. " Go to nature,"
they say ; " look at the external world ; see everything
around you ; look there, and see written with pleasing
characters that one great lesson of the universe, that
God is love." Well, I will go to the external world, if
such is to be the theme. I look around me, and I dis-
cover many things upon which the eye can gaze, to
which the ear can listen, upon which the heart can
dwell, which rejoices me when I think that the God
that made them all is surely a God of love. There are
the smiling landscapes, and beautiful enamelled earth,
and soft music of the summer's breeze, and the loud
laugh of the bounding stream, and the innocence of
domestic enjoyments and ennobling principles, and the
peace and love and animation which cluster around the
hearth-stone of many a cottage home. Oh, it is a
delightful thought that the God who made all these
things, is surely a God of love ! Ah, but then there are
the sweeping floods, and the resistless tempests, and the
mighty thunder, and the jealousies and heart-burnings
of domestic society, and the wholesale slaughters of
aggressive war, and the wrath of the devouring pesti-

9

1U

lence, and, to crown all, death, grim and ghastly death,
crushing the generations as the moth is crushed. "What
am I to believe, but that the God of the universe is a
mighty judge ? Nature can tell me nothing then. She
just tosses my poor mind about in the most distressing
alternations, first of confidence, and then of dread.
And yet often when the mild voice of Christianity —
rather of natural religion — assures me that God is love,
I am not disposed to believe it. But then there is a
reason for this. This is not, like the other, conjured up
out of the land of shadows, the mere result of man's
intellect or of speculation and theories ; it has its base
and origin in the secrecies of his own nature. The fact
is, in every mind there is a law of right and wrong, and
along with it a consciousness that that law has been
habitually violated. There is a restless apprehension
of the law and the Law-giver, a dread foreboding of
guilt and judgment; and a man cannot believe that
God is love, while his conscience tells him that that
God is to be viewed as an enemy. The comforting
voice of reason and of religion may testify to the
benevolence of God in heaven ; but so long as there is
a secret misgiving within — so long as there is the yet
unsettled controversy between his Maker and himself,
all ideas of confidence are banished from his mind, and,
like Adam of old, in the very slyness of his crime, he
would hide himself from his Maker among the trees of
his garden.

And here it is that Christianity comes to our assist-

195

ance, just as she always does when we most need her,
and one feels the force of those deep and thrilling
words — " Behold the Lamb of God, that taketh away
the sins of the world." This told of a Saviour, and a
Saviour who has borne his cross and carried his sorrow,
the man looks about him for the unwonted spectacle,
puts off his fainting for awhile, gazes at the illustrious
victim, and "Who is it?" he cries : "who is that mighty
one that has come down to the rescue ? Who is it that
has agonized in the garden, that has bled under the
scourge, and died upon the cross ? Who is it ?" Why,
who should it be but the very Being whom he has so
basely and so ungratefully insulted ? and with the grace
of love and the tenderness of the man Christ Jesus,
there is blended the majesty of the King of kings. Oh,
he cannot doubt after that ; that is an argument likely
to overturn all his skepticism. He looks at the cross,
and sees that God is righteous ; but he looks at the
Crucified, and he sees that God is love; and, with
clasped hands and streaming eyes and grateful heart,
he sings, "Whom have I in heaven but thee? and
there is none upon earth that I desire beside thee."

III. And then, again, God is the Christian's inherit-
ance, also as the rest of his soul. The restlessness
of human ambition has become proverbial. It is grasp-
ing as the leech, insatiable as the grave. The moment
one scheme has succeeded, it pants for the enjoyment
of another. The moment it has scaled one eminence
of fancied bliss, its cry is " up," ay, from the summit

196

of the Alps. " O that I had the wings of the dove,
and then would I fly away and be at rest," This rest-
less craving for something better than earth, although
it is the companion of our fallen nature, very plainly
tells us an important truth — that the earth and its con-
cerns can never satisfy an immortal spirit. It pants for
something higher, something more refined, something
more intellectual, something more like God. That
which alone can satisfy, can fill the immortal mind,
must be something in which it can feel secure, and
something with which it can be satisfied ; for to be
secure is to be safe, and to be satisfied is to be happy.

1. Take the first thought, then — that of security.
We are in a dangerous world; at every step of our
track we feel the necessity of celestial guardianship,
and that tutelary and sustaining influences should be
shed upon us from on high. Well, let us once get it into
our hearts — not into our heads simply by an intellectual
conviction, but into our hearts as a happy alliance — let
us get it into our hearts that the Lord is our defence
and the Holy One of Israel our refuge, and what can
make us afraid ? Omnipotence pledged in our behalf !
Why, the very idea should make heroes of us all ! He
may, he most likely will have to pass through the fur-
nace ; the hand of affliction may be laid upon him ; the
wind may sweep swiftly over the desert, rocking to and
fro the canvas tents of his earthly shelter ; but you can
hear him crying in the pauses of the storm — " It is the
Lord ; let him do what seemeth to him good." He

197

may have to suffer the bitterness of bereavement ; death
may deprive him of the beloved of his soul ; there may
be the breaking up of the domestic homestead ; the
fresh laceration of the already bleeding spirits, and the
tearing asunder of hearts that have grown together ;
but, in the midst of this unparalleled suffering, you
can hear his unmoved faith, saying — " The Lord gave,
and the Lord hath taken away" — not the Chaldaean,
nor the Sabean, nor the whirlwind, nor the flood — "The
Lord hath taken away. Blessed be the name of the
Lord." A fiercer flood may roll upon him, a heavier
wave may threaten to overwhelm him, the fires of ven-
geance may be poured on his head, but even in death's
grasp his failing voice is heard — " Though he slay me, yet
will I trust in him. Whom have I in heaven but thee ?
and there is none upon earth that I desire beside thee."
2. And then take the next thought, that of happiness.
The question of man's chief good has been in all ages
speculated upon and determined. All the theorizers on
the subject have been convinced of this — that it could
consist in nothing inferior. And so far they are right.
That which alone can fill the immortal mind, must have
some analogy to the constitution of that mind ; and it
must therefore be steadfast, proof against the litfulness
of ever-changing circumstances ; not here to-day and
vanished when we need it to-morrow ; not present in
the summer time when the breezes blow, and failing in
the winter time when the blast of the hurricane comes
down ; but steadfast, always the same and always avail-

198

able. And it must be progressive, keeping pace with
the soul, lasting as long as the soul, keeping abreast
with it in its triumphal march to holiness and God.
"Well, there are many candidates in the field. Just
bring them to the test-stone for awhile. Pleasure is a
candidate, and she brings before the soul a very glow-
ing description of herself and her ways. She tells him
that the voice of the siren shall make music in his ears,
and that the loud laugh of festivity shall be heard in
his dwelling, that the voice of song and dance and car-
nival shall yield him succession of delight. But he
asks, " Is she steadfast V And he hears that she never
enters the chambers of sorrow, has no comfort for the
dark slumber and hopeless winter of age. A bird of
passage, she flaps her giddy wings in the sunshine, but
at the first approach of the stormy season speeds her
flight into more favored climes. Then honor is a can-
didate, and she tells him of a wreath of laurels, of the
swellings of the heart as it listens to its own praise, and
of the untold happiness of being the conversation of the
world. But he asks, "Is she steadfast?" And they
tell him that chaplets of distinction often fade in a
night; they tell him that the most fickle thing in the
fickle universe is popular applause — how the same lips
that shouted "Hosanna to the Son of David!"" shouted
shortly afterward, " Crucify him ! crucify him !" and
how the mob-idol of to-day has often been the mob-
victim of to-morrow. Then wealth is a candidate ; and
she tells him of the pleasure of hoarding, of the joys of

THE CHRISTIAN'S INHERITANCE. 199

possession, of the pomp, and power, and flattery, and
obsequiousness which money can procure. But he asks,
" Is she steadfast ?" He hears that she brings with her
her own discontent ; that the cares of keeping are worse
than the cares of getting ; that often in times of panic,
like the scared eagle, wealth takes to itself wings and
flies away ; and even if a man enjoy it all his life long,
though failure and panic may not come to strip the lord
of his property, death shall come and strip the property
of its lord.

"Well, then, after all these, the joys of earth, have been
tried and severally found wanting, God brings his
claims before the mind, offering to be the soul's refuge
and everlasting home. True itself, it does not shrink
from the test. God's aids are steadfast, they avail in
the winter as well as in the summer ; in the dark season
of adversity as well as when the sun shineth on the
path ; when frost depresses the spirit as well as when
sunshine fills it with laughter ; when friends troop up
and when friends forsake equally ; when fortune smiles
and when the world turns the cold shoulder. Are they
always the same % Are they not ? Oh ! if the deco-
rums of the sanctuary would permit it to-night, are
there not many of you who could rise up in your deep
baptism of sorrow and sing in the words of the poet?- —

" When our sorrows most increase,
Then his richest joys are given;
Jesus comes in our distress,
And agony is heaven."

200

Are they progressive ? Will they last as long as the
soul ? Will they keep young as it does, and keep pace
with it as it travels along toward holiness and God?
Oh, yes ! for before all the immense and varied lands-
cape of blessings upon which the eye can rest, existed
the fullness of Deity; beyond it, stretching forth, a
broad, fathomless infinity —

" An ocean of love and of power,
Which neither knows measure nor end."

3. Passing over several topics that might be worthy
of our meditation, just let us glance for a moment at
the support offered to the Christian in the hour and
article of death. Come with me, then, will you ? it will
do you good. Come with me to the Christian's death-
bed ; and if there is a cold-hearted and skeptical infidel
of your acquaintance, bring him with you, that he may
learn at once the worthlessness of human pride and the
glory of the God of love. Stretched upon a couch
lies the poor sufferer —

" Whose weak, attenuated frame
Shows naught of being but a name."

Is this the man — is this the being who but a little while
ago towered in all the strength of his pride ? Is this
clenched hand that which clasped yours in friendship
but a little while ago ? Ah, how true it is that he
cometh forth as a flower and is cut down ! But what
is it fills that closing eye with such unwonted bright-
ness ? What is it that kindles that pallid cheek into

201

such angelic animation ? All ! thero is a mightier than
you, and a mightier than death ; there is God in that
death-chamber. There is an awe and a solemnity
which tells of the presence of God. Listen ! listen to
the unfaltering firmness with which that voice sings :
"My flesh and my heart faileth; but God is the strength
of my heart and my portion forever." Is that enthu-
siasm ? Are these the accents of frenzy ? Does mad-
ness talk so calmly ? Has the prospect of dissolution
no chilling influence ? Can a fictitious excitement sup-
port the soul at such an hour ? Ah ! that is a stout-
hearted hypocrisy that can brave the agony of dying.
But here is triumph in death. Stoicism boasts of her
examples ; patriotism has a long list of worthies, for
whom the world has woven garlands of undying bloom.
But here is a man, a poor, frail, erring, insignificant
man, going with his eyes open, with the full conscious-
ness of his position, down the dark valley, to meet, to
grapple with, and to master his last enemy. There is a
spectacle of the morally sublime that I challenge the
wide universe to equal. And this sublime spectacle is
not of the wisdom of men ; it is just the power of God.
But while we have been talking about him, the man
has died ; the last convulsion is past ; the last breath is
drawn ; the last pulse has completed its feeble throb —

" Oh change, oh wondrous change !
There lies the soulless clod :
The sun eternal breaks ; the new immortal wakes —
Wakes with his God."

9*

202 THE CHRISTIAN'S INHERITANCE.

There is high festivity in the realms of the blest at the
accession of another member to the rejoicing family.
And the harpers harping with their harps rest in their
music awhile, and the angels, who pry forever into the
mysteries of God, take holiday from their researches for
awhile, and all heaven is gathered to witness the coro-
nation of the rejoicing believer as the crown is placed
on his head by the Master for whom he has done and
suffered so much. Ah ! what strange act is that ? He
takes the crown and casts it again at the feet of the
giver, and he says, assigning his reason — listen, we shall
hear, for the music is still just now — what is it? " Ah,
Lord, the harp, and the robe, and the crown, and the
palm, what are all these to me ? These are : only the
appendages of the recompense. Thou art my reward ;
thou art my portion ; whom have I in heaven itself but
thee?" And then the harpers harping with their harps
break out again, they can hold in no longer, and heaven
is filled as with an irrepressible gush of melody, " Kot
unto us, not unto us, but unto thy name be all the
glory." And that is the end. Who does not say, "Let
me die the death of the righteous, and let my last end
be like his ?" Ah, but there are many people that pray
that prayer, who would like to die the death of the
righteous, but who do not like to live the life of the
righteous. But they go together ; believe me they go
together. If you would die the death of the righteous,
you must live the life of the righteous, even a life of
faith in the Son of God, " who hath loved you and

203

given himself for you." There are some in this
assembly to-night, who are not living the life of the
righteous ; you have not given yourselves unto Christ
and his people, and there is no hope of that death for
you.

There is another death which I dare not trust myself
to describe — scenes of agony over which I draw the
veil — the very thought of which freezes the vitals and
curdles the blood ! Oh ! come to Jesus ; do not tempt
upon yourselves any such doom as that. Get Christ for
you all. "I live," as says the rejoicing Apostle; "yet
not I, but Christ liveth in me " — so shall everything
lead you up to God. It could not lead you to undervalue
the life you now live ; it would not make you love less
this beautiful world ; everything around you will only
have mystic meanings which will be interpreted only
by Christ ; you will be led thus from nature up to
nature's God. Then, as you pass through scenes of
beauty and blessedness, your full heart, taking refuge
in the language of poesy, will sing— -

"Lord of earth, thy forming hand
Well this beauteous frame hath planned :
Woods that wave, and hills that tower,
Ocean rolling in its power ;
All that strikes the gaze unsought,
All that charms the lonely thought.
Yet, amid this scene so fair,
Oh ! if thou wert absent there,
What were all those joys to me ;
Whom have I on earth but thee ?"

204 THE CHRISTIAN'S INHERITANCE.

Then, travelling through the path of your pilgrimage,
God, your own God, will bless you, and will wipe away
all tears from your faces, and will uplift you in the
endurance and prepare you for the duties of life ; and
your pilgrimage will go on calmly ; mellow eventide
will come upon you, yet at eventide there shall be
light. The last stroke will be struck, the last enemy
encountered, the last change realized, and amid the
ranks of the ransomed you pass to pay your first hom-
age to the throne, and even then, taking refuge again
in the language of poesy, will your thoughts be the
same —

" Lord of heaven, beyond our sight
Rolls a world of purer light ;
Where, in love's unclouded reign,
Parted hands are clasped again ;
Martyr's there and seraphs high,
Blest and glorious company !
While immortal music rings
From unnumbered seraph strings.
Oh, that scene is passing fair !
Yet if thou wert absent there,
What were all those joys to me ?
Whom have I in heaven but thee ?"

May God bring us all to sing that song forever, for
his name's sake.

VIII.

THE HEAVENLY CONQUEKOK.

" And I saw, and behold a white horse ; and he that sat on him had
bow ; and a crown was given unto him ; and he went forth conquering and
to conquer" — Rev. vi., 2.

How animating is the sound of war ! How easily can
it awaken the ardors of the unrenewed and unsanctified
heart of man ! There is no profession in which he can
gain more renown and applause than in the profession
of arms. It is the birthplace of what men call glory.
Custom has baptized it honorable ; it carries with it a
pomp and a circumstance of which other professions
are destitute ; it has nerved the arm of the patriot, it
has fired the genius of the painter, it has strung and
swept the poet's lyre ; nations have bowed before its
shrine, and even religion has prostituted herself to bless
and consecrate its banners. Yet it must not be for-
gotten that for the most part human conquerors are just
murderers upon a grand scale — mighty butchers of
human kind. Their victories are won amid extermina-
tion and havoc ; their track is traced in ruin ; there is
human life upon their laurels ; and if they wish to
acquire a name, they have got one ; let them glory as

20J»

206 THE HEAVENLY CONQUEKOR.

they can in its possession — the voice of blood proclaims
it from the ground, and it is vaunted from earth to
heaven by the waitings of orphaned hearts, and by the
deep execrations of despair. The sacred writings, how-
ever, tell us of one conqueror whose victories were
peacefully achieved, whose battles were bloodlessly won ;
or if his onward march was discolored by blood, it was
his own. It is the Lord Jesus Christ who is thus
evidently set before us ; he who " died the just for the
unjust, that he might bring us to God." In the fulfill-
ment of the various duties connected with the mediato-
rial office which he had undertaken, he is frequently
represented as going out to battle against his adver-
saries, as routing them by the word of his mouth, and
returning in exultation and triumph. Instances of this
you will easily and at once remember. Thus, in the
forty-fifth Psalm : " Gird thy sword upon thy thigh, O
most mighty, with thy glory and thy majesty. And in
thy majesty ride prosperously because of truth and
meekness and righteousness ; and thy right hand shall
teach thee terrible things." Again, in the eleventh
chapter of Luke : " When a strong man armed keepeth
his palace, his goods are in peace : but when a stronger
than he shall come upon him and overcome him, he
taketh from him all his armor wherein he trusted, and
divideth his spoils." And yet, again, according to the
mysterious apocalypses of the Book of Revelation,
"Then shall all make war with the Lamb, and the
Lamb shall overcome them." It matters not how

THE HEAVENLY CONQUEROR. 207

numerous or how powerful his enemies may be — alike
over the powers of darkness with their legioned hosts
of foes — alike over the corruption of the human heart
with all its ramifications of depravity — alike over the
false systems into which the corruption has retreated,
as into so many garrisoned and fortified towns, " a
crown is given unto him, and he goeth forth conquering
and to conquer." It is not my intention to enter into
all the details of this interesting and absorbing strife.
I should just like to concentrate your attention upon
one phase of the conflict — the battle of the old serpent
the devil, the great origin of evil, under whose general-
ship the others are mustered, and to whose commands
they submittingly bow. Behold, then, the combat be-
yond all others important — the combat between Christ
and Satan for the human soul, and, as you trace the
progress of the fight, remember with encouragement,
and say that " He goeth forth conquering and to
conquer." It will be necessary, in order that we have
the whole matter before us, that we introduced the
cause of strife, the battle, and the victory.

I. As to the cause of strife. You know that when
the all-comprising benevolence of God found heaven
too small for the completion of his vast designs, this
earth arose in order and in beauty from his forming
hands. After by his Spirit he had garnished the
heavens, and scattered upon the fair face of nature the
labor of his hand and the impress of his feet, as the
fairest evidence of Divine workmanship, the last and

208 THE HEAVENLY " CONQUEROR.

most excellent of his works below, he made man in his
own image, after his own likeness. The soul, then, was
the property of him by whom it was created, who
imparted to it its high and noble faculties, by whom,
notwithstanding its defilement, it is still sustained, and
from whom proceed the retributions which shall fix its
doom forever. Man was created in possession of that
moral purity, that absolute freedom from sin, which
constituted of itself assimilation to his Maker's image.
And so long as he retained that image, so long was he
the Divine property, and the Divine portion alone.
But the moment he sinned, the moment of the perver-
sion of his nature, of the estrangement of his faculties,
of the alienation of his heart, he came under a different
tenure, and became a vassal of a different lord.

Satan himself, once an inhabitant of the high realms
of glory, but hurled from that giddy height for diso-
bedience and pride, was mysteriously permitted to
tempt our first parents in the garden, with the full
knowledge, on their part, that, standing as they did in
their representative, and public character, if they fell
the consequences of that one transgression were en-
tailed upon all their posterity. With the circumstances
of the original temptation you are of course familiar,
and the issue of it you have in that one verse in the
book of Genesis : " Because thou hast done this, thou
art cursed above all cattle, and above every beast of
the field ; upon thy belly shalt thou go, and dust shalt
thou eat all the days of thy life." This tells us of the

THE HEAVENLY CONQUEROR. 209

contravention — the direct contravention — of a known
law : a law which God, as the supreme Creator, had a
perfect right to institute ; a law which man, as a
dependent creature, was under binding obligations to
obey. It was instituted avowedly as a test of obe-
dience ; and this is all we would answer to the labored
sarcasms of foolish infidelity. Any wayfaring man,
though a fool, can curl his lip and declaim against the
insignificance of the act from which such mighty issues
sprang ; but he forgets that the moment the tempta-
tion was yieled to, there was in human nature a very
incarnation of the devil. Under that demoniacal pos-
session the man was prepared for any infraction, from
the eating of the forbidden fruit to the subversion of an
almighty throne ; and lie who, under such circum-
stances, would violate a known command, however
trifling, would not, if the circumstances had been
equal, have shrunk away from the endeavor to scale
the battlements of heaven, and pluck the crown of
divinity from the very brow of the Eternal. Hence it
was, by yielding to the suggestions of the tempter, and
to his infamous temptation, that the portals of the
palace were flung wide open for the strong man armed
to enter ; and hither, alas ! he came with all his sad and
fearful train, enthroning himself upon the heart, setting
up his image, as Bunyan hath it, in the market-place
of the town of Man-soul ; fortifying every avenue, filling
every chamber, corrupting every faculty, enervating
every inhabitant, and announcing every moment the

210 THE HEAVENLY CONQUEROR.

symbols of his own resolve to grasp and hold it forever.
Here then is in brief the cause of this celestial strife.
The soul, a colony of heaven, had been taken usurped
possession of, by the powers of hell, and the effort to
restore it to allegiance was the main cause of this
celestial war.

Still further to impress you with the weighty causes
of the strife, let us remind you for a moment of the
character of the government thus by daring usurpation
acquired. The dominion which Satan exercises over
the human soul is despotic in its character. He is not a
monarch, he is an autocrat ; he admits no compromise,
he brooks no rival, he pours his uncleanness upon every
part, and reigns supremely over every power and every
faculty of man. True, the man is not always conscious
of his slavery ; that is one of the cunningest secrets of
his power, that he persuades his vassals that they are
free, and their offended language to any one who
questions the fact is, " We be Abraham's children that
were never in bondage to any man." He brands them
as is own, and then, content to wear his badge, they
may choose their own trappings. He has no uniform.
Some of his soldiers are in rags and others in purple,
and his very choicest veterans have stolen the livery of
heaven. There is not one within the compass of the
whole human family who is not subject to his authority,
naturally led captive by the devil at his will. And
then, this government of Satan over the human soul is
not only despotic but degrading. Slavery in any form

THE HEAVENLY CONQUEROR. 211

is essentially connected with degradation, and in the
case before us the connection must be regarded as the
most palpable and emphatic of all. The essence and
exaltation of moral dignity are assimilations to the
image of God. Whatever recedes from that image
must of necessity debase and degrade. Now the course
of man's life, as it has been, ever since the fall, a
course of constant and increasing recession from God,
presents a spectacle of moral degradation which is
grievous to behold : the whole nature has fallen ; the
understanding has become darkened, and is conversant
only with what is contemptible and low ; the affections,
which once soared sublimely upward, now cleave to
worldly objects, objects that perish in the using ; the
passions have become loyal servants of the usurper, and
keep their zealous patrol in the court-yard of his
palace ; the will, which once inclined to good, is now
fierce and greedy after evil ; imagination revels in
fondest dalliance with sin for its paramour ; and con-
science, intoxicated with opiate draughts, and in that
intoxication smitten with paralysis, gazes hopelessly
upon the desolation ; or if at times stirred by the spirit
within, it breaks out with a paroxysm and terrifies the
man with its thunder, he is persuaded to regard it as
the incoherence of some meddling drunkard, or the
ravings of some frantic madman. Such is the condi-
tion to which the usurpation of the evil one has
reduced the human soul. It is first earthly, scraping
its affluence or its pleasure together ; and then, yet

212 THE HEAVENLY -CONQUEROR.

more degrading, there is the transformation that hap-
pened to Nebuchadnezzar, the heart of a man is taken
out, and the heart of a beast is put in ; and then, as
like grows to like, and as a process of assimilation is
constantly going on, it grows into its master's image ;
the mark of the beast becomes more distinct and pal-
pable, every feature stands confessed of Satan's obscene
and loathsome likeness, and there is a living proof of
the truth of the scale upon which Scripture has
graduated man's increasing degeneracy. First earthly,
then sensual, then devilish. This is a fearful picture ;
is it not \ Ah ! you see the man, or his bacchanalian
orgies, or his midnight prowl, but you do not see the
fiend that dogs his steps and goads him to destruction.
You see the degradation of the nature that once bore
the image of God, but you do not see the jibing,
mocking demon that is behind. You trace intelligibly
enough the infernal brand, but you cannot hear the
peals of infernal laughter as the arch-devil, looking
down upon the soul that he has stormed, exults in the
extremity of the disgrace and glories in the pollution
of the fallen.

The government of Satan over the human soul is not
only despotic and degrading, but destructive. Sin and
punishment are inseparably allied ; the powers of dark-
ness, although mysteriously permitted a certain amount
of influence, are themselves, in punishment, " reserved
in chains under darkness until the judgment of the
great day." A man who transgresses, since no coer-

THE HEAVENLY CONQUEROK. 213

cion comes upon the freedom of his will, must neces-
sarily be regarded as willful ; he is under the" curses of a
violated law, nay, condemned altogether, for " the
wrath of God abideth upon him." God will " pour out
indignation, and wrath, and tribulation, and anguish
upon every soul of man that doeth evil ; upon the Jew
first, and also upon the Gentile ;" for there is no re-
spect of persons with God. I am speaking to uncon-
verted sinners to-night ; to some of refined and delicate
sensibility, shocked at the ribaldry of the vulgar, and
at the licentiousness of the profane. I tell you there
is no respect of persons with God. If you flee not to a
high and mighty Redeemer, if you repose not in
present reliance upon Christ, for you there remaineth
nothing but a death whese bitterest ingredient is that it
can never die, but that it has eternity about it, eternity
beyond it, and eternity within it, and the curse of God,
upon it, fretting it and following it forever.

Thank God, there is a promise of a perfect and de-
lightful deliverance from this thralldom under which
man has been groaning. Christ has come down on
purpose to deliver and ransom him, and he goeth forth
conquering and to conquer. In the counsels of the
eternal Godhead, in foresight of the temptation of
Satan and of the thralldom and depravity of man,
Christ was induced to work out a counteracting scheme,
by which, in the beautiful language of ancient pro-
phecy, the prey of the mighty should be taken away
and the lawful captive delivered. The first initimatiou

214: THE HEAVENLY CONQUEROR.

of this scheme was given just when the first shadow of
sin swept over the world. " The seed of the woman
shall bruise the serpent's head." From that time there
was a continued series of operations, in the good provi-
dence of God perpetuated for thousands of years, all
tending to the fulfillment of this original promise, and
the achievement of this original plan. At last, in the
fullness of time — the time by prophet seers foretold,
and by believing saints expected — in the fullness of time,
the Son of God was incarnated in the nature that had
sinned, and then it was that the battle in earnest began.
IT. Look, then, at the Divine Saviour, " stronger
than the strong man armed," invested with far higher
qualifications, and wielding far mightier power. And
how is this? He is the babe in Bethlehem, the
rejected wanderer, the arraigned rebel, the scourged
and spit upon, the Nazarene, the crucified. But these
are only voluntary submissions, and in the deepest humi-
liation there slumbers Omnipotence within. " All power
is given unto Me both in heaven and in earth," and this
power is all enlisted upon the side of salvation and of
mercy. It is not the power of the lightning, that
blasts while it brightens ; it is not the power of the
whirlwind, whose track is only known by the carnage
and desolation that it leaves behind it. It is the power
of the water rill, that drops and drops, and in its drop-
ping melts the most stern and difficult of nature's
forces. It is the power of the light ; it flows in ener-
getic silence, you cannot hear it as it flows, and yet it

THE HEAVENLY CONQUEROR. 215

permeates and illumines all. He is strong, but he is
strong to deliver ; he is mighty, bnt, in is own powerful
language, he is " mighty to save." It often happens —
it used to do so more frequently than it does now — in
the history of the strifes of nations, and of the harsh
scenes of war, that the interest of spectators was drawn
aside from hostile ranks to two courageous champions,
who separated themselves from opposing armies for
single combat with each other, and the fate of armies
appeared to the spectators as nothing compared with
who should be the victor in this individual strife. O !
conceive, if it were possible, a single combat between
the rival princes of light and darkness, the grand, the
transcendent, the immeasurable issue of which shall be
the ruin or redemption of the human soul ! I cannot
limn it ; I cannot bring it fairly before you ; the sub-
ject is too mighty : and yet a thought or two may not
inaptly illustrate the battle that is now before us.

See, then, the lists are spread ; the champions are
there. Eager angels crowd around, for they have an
interest in the strife, and they are anxious to tune their
harps to the anthems of regeneration again. Exulting
demons are there, flushed with high hopes they dare
not name, that vaunt of a ruined universe and of a
peopled hell. This is no gentle passage at arms ; this is
no gorgeous tournament, or mimic fight, or holiday
review ; the destinies of a world of souls are trembling
in the balance now — depend for weal or woe upon the
issue of this mortal strife.

216 THE HEAVENLY CONQUEROR.

The first grapple seems to have been in the tempta-
tion in the wilderness ; for at the commencement of our
Saviour's public ministry the enemy endeavored to
tempt the second Adam after the same fashion as he
had tempted the first ; and when wearied with labor,
and exhausted with endurance and suffering from the
pangs of hunger and of thirst, he brought before him a
similar order of temptation to that which had been
successful in the garden of Eden. Ah ! but there was a
mightier Adam in human flesh this time with whom he
had to deal. Grasping the sword of the spirit, with its
trenchant blade, he cut asunder the flimsy sophistries
of the tempter's weaving, and the discomfited demon
went baffled away ; and angels came and ministered
unto Jesus — fanned with their ambrosial wings his
burning brow, and poured their offices of kindness
upon his fatigued and sorrowing soul.

Defeated, but not conquered, the enemy returned to
the charge ; and the next grapple was in the perform-
ance of miracles. It is customary in ordinary warfare,
you know, whenever a fortress- is taken, for the con-
queror to garrison it with some of his own soldiers, and
leave some trusty captain in charge. The enemy
appears to have acted upon this plan, and in token of
his usurped authority over the human race, he caused
certain of his servants to enter into the bodies of men.
"When Christ came into the world they brought unto
him those that were grievously vexed with devils. He
sat down before some of their Sebastopols of the evil

THE HEAVENLY CONQUEROR. 217

one, and as speaking by that high exorcism, he at once
dislodged the intruders ; and as, some in moody silence,
and others with piteous cries, they rushed out from the
places they had agonized, we can trace in their com-
plaining the confession of their defeat : " What have
we to do with thee, Jesus, thou Son of God. Art thou
come to torment us before the time ?"

The next was the death grapple. And was the cham-
pion smitten? Did he bencl beneath that felon's
stroke ? "Was there victory at last for the powers of
hell ? Imagine, if you can, how there would be joy is
the breast of the evil one when the Saviour expired ;
how he would exult at that victory which had more
than recompensed the struggle of four thousand years.
Hours roll on ; he makes no sign ; day and night suc-
ceed each other ; there is no break upon the slumber —
their victory appears complete and final. Shall no one
undeceive them ? No ; let them enjoy their triumph
as they may. It were cruel to disturb a dream like
that, which will have so terrible an awaking. But we,
brethren, with the light of eighteen hundred years
streaming down upon that gory field, understand the
matter better. He died, of course, for only thus could
death be abolished ; he was counted with transgressors,
of course, for thus only could sin be forgiven ; he was
made a curse for us, of course, because thus ouly could
he turn the curse into a blessing. O ! to faith's en-
lightened sight there is a surpassing glory upon that
cross. He was never so kingly as when girt about with

10

218 THE HEAVENLY CONQUEROR.

that crown of thorns ; there was never so much royalty
upon that regal brow as when he said, " It is finished,"
and he died.

There only remains one more grapple, and that was in
the rising from the dead and ascension into heaven. It is
considered the principal glory of a conqueror, you know,
not merely that he repels the aggressive attacks of his
enemy, but when he carries the war into that enemy's camp
and makes him own himself vanquished in the metropolis
of his own empire. This Christ did by concealing himself
for a while within the chambers of the grave. "We cannot
tell you much about the battle, for it was a night attack,
it took place in darkness ; but we can tell the issue, because
on the morning of the third day the sepulchre was empty,
and the Redeemer had gone forth into Galilee. This
was only like the garnering up of the fruits of the
conflict. The cross had settled it. It was finished
when he said it was, upon the cross ; but this was a
sudden surprise in the camp, when the guards were
drawn off, and the soldiers carousing in the flush of
fancied victory. By death he had abolished death —
him that had the power of death. By his resurrection
he spoiled principalities and powers ; and then he went
up that he might " make a show of them openly."
You can almost follow him as he goes, and the chal-
lenge is given as he rises and nears the gates of the
celestial city : " Who is this that cometh from Edom
with dyed garments from Bozra ? this that is glorious
in his apparel travelling in the greatness of hia

THE HEAVENLY CONQUEROR. 219

strength ?" And then comes the answer : " I that speak
in righteousness, might y to save." " Lift np your
heads, O ye gates ; and be ye lifted up ye everlasting
doors ; and the King of glory shall come in. Who is
this King of glory \ The Lord strong and mighty, the
Lord mighty in battle. Lift up your heads, O ye
gates ; even lift them up ye everlasting doors ; and the
King of glory shall come in."

" And through the portals wide outspread
The vast proeession pours.'"

And on he marches through the shining ranks of the
ransomed, until he gets to the throne and points to the
captives of his bow and spear, and claims his recom-
pense. And " there is silence in heaven ;" and there is
given unto him " a name that is above every name ;
that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, and
every tongue confess that he is Lord, to the glory of
God the father." It is finished. Now he rests from his
labors, and now he sheathes his sword, and now he
wears his crown.

III. Just a word or two upon the victory that he
gained. It was complete, it was benevolent, it was
unchanging.

The attack which the Saviour made upon the enemy
was such as to tear away the very sources and energies
of his power. Mark how each fresh onset, whether
from earth or hell, has only enhanced his glory and
brightened the conqueror's crown. He vanquished in

220 THE HEAVENLY -CONQUEROR.

his own person by dying, and in the person of his fol-
lowers he has continued to manifest that indestructible
energy which was always manifest just when it seemed
to be overthrown. Why, at the commencement of
Christianity would not any one have thought that a
breath would annihilate it and exterminate the name
of its founder forever ? And there they were —
Caesar on the throne, Herod on the bench, Pilate in the
judgment-hall, Caiaphas in the temple, priests and
soldiers, Jews and Romans, all united together to crush
the Galilean, and the Galilean, overcame. And so it
has been in all ages until now. Presecution has lifted
up her head against the truth ; war-wolves have lapped
up the blood of God's saints, and for a time silenced the
witness of confessors, and the testimony of the faithful
has gone upward amid the crackling of fagots, and
the ascending flame has been the chariot of fire in
which rising Elijahs have mounted to heaven. And
not merely is the completeness of this triumph mani-
fested in the aggregate, but in the individual. Not
only is every man brought into a salvable state, but
every part of every man is redeemed. The poor body
is not forgotten : it is taught to cast off the grave
clothes and anticipate an everlasting residence in
heaven. The mind crouches no longer ; it emancipates
itself from its vassalage and stands erect in the liberty
wherewith Christ made it free. And the whole man,
who was a while ago an alien, degraded and desolate, a
fitting companion of the beast in his lair, a worthy fol-

THE HEAVENLY CONQUEROR. 221

lower in the serpent's trail, is now " clothed and in his
right mind," careering along in the enterprises of godli-
ness, a fellow-citizen with saints and the household of God.
And then the triumphs of the Saviour are benevolent
too. Tell me not of human glory, it is a prostituted
word. Tell me not of Agincourt, and Cressy, and
"Waterloo, and of the high places of Moloch worship,
where men have been alike both priests and victims.
One verse of the poet aptly describes them all :

" Last noon beheld them full of lusty life,
Last eve in beauty's circle proudly gay.
The midnight brought the signal sound of strife ;
The morning marshalling in arms ; the day
Battle's magnificently stern array,
The thunder clouds close o'er it, which when rent,

The earth is covered quick with other clay,
Which her own clay shall cover, heaped and pent,
Rider and horse, friend and foe, in one rude burial blent ."

But what is it to be seen in the time of the Lord's
victory ? Plains covered with traces of recent carnage,
and of recent havoc ? "What is there to be heard in the
time of the Lord's victory ? Orphans wailing the dead,
widows bemoaning those that have departed ? ISTo, but
a voice breathing down a comfortable word to men :
" They shall neither hurt nor destroy in all my holy
mountain, saith the Lord." The procession of this
conqueror consists of saved souls, and eternity shall
consecrate the scene.

And then the triumphs of the Saviour are not only

222 THE HEAVENLY CONQUEROR.

complete and benevolent, but unchanging. The things
that are now are very transitory. The sand of the
desert is not more unstable ; the chaff of the summer
threshing-floor is not more helpless on the wind ; but
the Saviour's triumphs brighten with the lapse of time;
their lustre time can tarnish not, nor death itself
destroy. O ! think of the multitude that have been
already saved ! think of the multitude who went up in
the early ages of the Church with its enrichments of
blessings ; think of those who had been taken off to
heaven before they ever had time to sin after the simili-
tude of Adam's transgression — souls ransomed by the
blood of atonement taken from birth under the wing of
the quivering cherub right away into the realms of
blessedness and rest ; think of those from the time of
the Saviour's incarnation until now who have passed
through death triumphant home ; think of the multi-
tudes now upon earth that are working out their salva-
tion with fear and trembling ; think of the still greater
multitudes that shall yet press into the Church in the
times of its millennial glory, when the gates of it shall
not be shut day or night, because there shall be no
chance of shutting them, the people crowd in so fast.
O what a Jubilee in heaven ! 0 gathering of emanci-
pated spirits ! Limit the / extent of the atonement !
"Who dares do it ? Talk about Christ dying for a few
scattered families of the sons of men merely ! "Why, it
is to charge my Saviour with cowardice, and bring a
slur upon his conduct in the Held. If there be ouo

THE HEAVENLY CONQUEROR. 223

solitary soul the wide universe through for whom
Christ did not die, over that soul death has triumphed,
and the conquest of my Saviour is imperfect and
incomplete. O ! he seems to stand in his triumphal
chariot, in the very centre of the universe, with
exulting heaven before and with tormented hell be-
hind ; and there is not an unconquered rebel there but
the glad halleluiahs of the one, and the solemn acqui-
escences of the other, peal out the universe's anthem,
" He is Lord of all."

And now which side are you ? Pardon the abrupt-
ness of the question, but answer it to your consciences
and to your God notwithstanding. Which side are
you ? There is no neutrality in this war, or if there be
one here that intends to preserve a dastardly neutrality,
he will get the hottest of the battle, and be exposed to
the cross-fire of both sides. Which side are you ? Do
you belong to the Lord, or the Lord's enemies ? Ask
yourselves that question in the sight of God. I never
knew, until I looked upon it in this aspect, the force
and power of a certain question which the Saviour
presented in the days of his flesh. I have admired the
capacities of the human soul, that it has a memory that
can recall the past, imagination that can penetrate the
future : that it has a will that no man can tame, that it
has immortality as its heritage. But I see all heaven
in earnest there, and all hell in earnest yonder, and the
prize of the conflict is one poor human soul ; and then
I see, as I never saw before, what an intensity of

224: THE HEAVENLY CONQUEROR.

emphasis there is in the awful inquiry : " What shall it
profit a man if he shall gain the whole world, and lose
his own soul ?" Brethren, how shall it be with yon ?
" Whosoever therefore will be a friend of the world, is
the enemy of God ;" and the doom of the enemies of
God is brought before us in the Bible : " Bring hither
those mine enemies that would not I should reign over
them, and slay them before me." On which side are
you ? There is one passage that I should just like to
bring before you, which has always appeared to me to
be one of the most fearful in the whole compass of the
book of God : " When the unclean spirit is gone out of
a man" — mark it, it does not say when he is driven
out, it does not say when he is dispossessed by superior
powers ; but the awful idea, almost too awful to be
entertained, is that there are some people in this world
of ours of whom Satan is so sure that he can leave
them for a while, perfectly certain that they will sweep
and garnish his house in his absence, and prepare it for
seven other spirits more inveterate and cruel — " When
the unclean spirit is gone out of a man he walketh
through dry places, seeking rest, and findeth none.
Then he saith, I will return unto my house." O
mockery of that quiet empire ! " To my house." The
tenancy has not changed ; he knows full well there is
too much love of the master's service in the heart of
the man for that. " I will return into my house from
whence I came out ; and when he is come he findeth it
empty, swept and garnished. Then goeth he, and

THE HEAVENLY CONQUEROR. 225

taketh with himself seven other spirits more wicked
than himself, and they enter in and dwell . there ; and
the last state of that man is worse than the first." Oh
horrible ! horrible ! Not merely to have Satan as a
guest, but to sweep and garnish the house that he may
come in, and that he may bring with him seven other
spirits more wicked than himself. And are you doing
that ? Is there one in the presence of God to-night to
whom this awful passage will apply ? Oh, I thank God
I can preach to you a present salvation in the name
Jesus. Be delivered from that bondage of yours, for
Christ has come down on purpose that he may deliver,
and that he may rescue, and he goeth forth conquering
and to conquer. " Ask, and it shall be given you ;
seek, and ye shall find ; knock, and it shall be opened
unto you." There is salvation for you from the power
of death, and from the thralldom and ascendency of
besetting sin, and from the grasp of the destroyer.
There is salvation for you in Christ Jesus the Lord.
Wherefore he is able to save to the uttermost of human
guilt, to the uttermost of human life, to the uttermost
of human time. May God help you, for Christ's sake.

10*

IX.

THE CHRISTIANS DEATH, LIFE, PEOSPECTS,
AND DUTY.

" Set your affections on things above, not on things on the earth. For
ye are dead, and your life is hid with Christ in God. When Christ, who
is our life, shall appear, then shall ye also appear with him in glory." —
Collossians iii. 2, 3, 4.

In the former part of this delightful and valuable
epistle, the Apostle has been reminding the Colossians
of their privileges, and the covenant blessings which
they inherited in Christ. He tells them that they have
entered upon a new dispensation, that the system of
types and shadows has accomplished its purpose, and
has been fulfilled, that their circumcision was of the
heart, in the spirit, and not in the letter, and that they
were " complete in Christ, who is the head of all prin-
cipality and power." Lest, however, by these con-
siderations, any of them should be exalted above
measure, he urges them that they live unto God, tells
them that, although freed from the yoke of ceremonial
observance, their obligation to obey was as strict and as
binding as ever, and though no longer impelled by
slavish and spiritless fear, the love of Christ should con

227

228 TOE christian's death,

strain them to a closer evangelical obedience. There is
no antinomianism, brethren, in the Gospel ; it tells us
that faith without works is dead ; that however largely
it may talk about its knowledge of the better land,
however it may imagine itself to be exalted through the
abundance of its revelations, if it do not work by love
and purity of heart, if it do not exert a transforming
influence upon the character and life, there is no sound-
ness in it, and it is but a specious and delusive mim-
ickry of the faith which saves. The Apostle, in impress-
ing this fact upon their minds, takes hallowed ground ;
he seems to remind them of their privileges, that he
may the more effectually insist upon their duty ; and
for the grandeur of their blessings, he urges their entire
consecration to God. "If ye then be risen with Christ,"
if ye be merged from the obscurity of the old dispen-
sation unto the strength and beauty of the new, if ye
have power over sin, if, by virtue of communion with
your Saviour, ye are justified by faith, sanctified by the
Spirit, and travelling to heaven, "seek those things that
are above ;" be at home in heaven ; let your desires
cluster there, and let there be a gathering of your hopes
around the throne ; let your affections fasten upon that
radiant seat " where Christ sitteth on the right hand of
God." He then repeats the exhortation, and assigns
reasons for its performance, in the language of the text,
" Set your affections on things above, not on things on
the earth. For ye are dead, and y our life is hid with
Christ in God. "When Christ, who is our life, shall

229

appear, then shall ye also appear with him in
glory."

There are fonr things presented to us in these words :
the Christian's death, the Christian's life, the Christian's
prospects, and the Christian's duty ; an ineffable blend-
ing of precept and promise, upon which, for a few
moments, it may profit us to dwell.

I. The first thing that strikes us, is the Christian's
death. " For," says the Apostle, " ye are dead." Is
not this somewhat of a paradox ? Does not Christ say
expressly, that he came not to destroy men's liyes, but
to save them ? Was it not one of the purposes of his
coming, that we might have life, and that we might
have it more abundantly? Was it not one of the
designs of his incarnation, that from the fountain of his
own underived existence, he might replenish the veins
of man, even to life everlasting ? And yet, when we
enter upon his service, the very first thing we are told
to do is to die. Who shall solve the enigma \ Only
the Scripture, by becoming, as it always does, the
authorized and satisfactory interpreter of itself. In St.
Paul's Epistle to Timothy, you find this remarkable ex-
pression : " She that liveth in pleasure is dead while
she liveth." You have no difficulty in understanding
that to mean dead in spiritual things. In that pleasure-
loving heart there beats no pulse for God ; in that
spirit, around which the world has flung the spells of
its witchery, there is no desire for heaven ; the
pleasures of sense engross it, and, although compassed

230 the christian's death,

by the realities of the other world, its very existence is
treated as a question or a fable. JS~ow, just the reverse
of this, morally considered, will explain to us the state
of the Christian when the Apostle tells us he is dead.
The fact is, that between the flesh and the spirit, there
is a bitter and irreconcilable enmity; the one cannot
exist in the presence and by the side of the other.
That which has been garnished for the temple of the
Lord, must not be profaned by an idol. Distinct and
solemn, and authoritative is the inspired announcement,
" "Whosoever will be the friend of the world is the
enemy of God." Impiety has entered into an unholy
compact to amalgamate these two, to adjust their
claims, to give them a division of service ; but it is a
covenant with death — it shall be disannulled ; it is an
agreement with hell — it shall not stand. Religion
peals out her refusal of such reluctant allegiance, lays
the grasp of her claim upon the entire nation, and tells
us in tones of power, " Ye can not serve God and mam-
mon." The Christian, then, who is a Christian indeed,
regards the world as if it were not, and continually
endeavors to exemplify that his life and conversation
are in heaven. His differences from the world may not,
indeed, be apparent to a superficial observer ; he goes
to and fro among the people like other men ; he takes
an interest in the ever-shifting concerns that are passing
in the world around him ;• and yet he is dead to the
world all the while. How are you to find it out ? Try
him with some question of difficulty; set his duty

LIFE, PROSPECTS, AND DUTY. 231

before him, and let that duty be painful, and let it
involve some considerable deprivation of gain or of
pleasure ; and with self-sacrificing devotion, he will
obey the truth, and glory in the trial. Mark him in the
midst of circumstances of discouragement and woe,
when waters, of a full cup are wrung out to him ; he is
sustained by an energy of which the world wotteth not,
nerved with a principle to which it is an ntter stranger ;
richer blood animates him, loftier inspirations sparkle
from his eye, and though surrounded by the things of
sense, and of course in some sort influenced by their
impressions upon him, he tells you plainly that he seeks
a country, nay, that he has already " risen with Christ,"
and that he lives in the land which is at once his
treasury and his home.

We may illustrate the Apostle's meaning again by a
reference to another passage ; that in which he speaks
of " always bearing about in the body the dying of the
Lord Jesus." The primary reference of the Apostle is to
the sufferings which himself and his compatriots were
called upon to undergo in attestation of the resurrection
of Christ. The enemies of the cross, those who were
doing their utmost to destroy Christianity, were per-
plexed and baffled by the disappearance of the Saviour
from the tomb ; and to account for the mystery, they
charged the apostles with the felony of their master's
body. Thus two statements were put forth directly
opposite in character and tendency ; the rulers said the
body was stolen ; the apostles said the body had risen.

232 the christian's death,

The latter could not be disproved ; but so intense was
their hostility against the Nazarene, that persecution
and power were made use of — compendious, but,
happily in this case, ineffectual arguments — to silence
the proclaimers of the truth. The Apostle refers to this
in the words that are now before us, and Jells them in
effect that though famine might draw the fire from his
eye, and long-continued suffering might repress and
undermine the buoyancy of his spirit, and though his
flesh might creep and quail beneath the pressure of
these agonies, and though in all these ways he might
bear about in the body the dying of the Lord Jesus,
yet, by the patience with which those sufferings were
borne, by the consolations which abounded in the
midst of them, nay, by the fact of the sufferings them-
selves, he could point to his marred and shattered body,
and say that not the dying only, but the life, the im-
mortal life of Jesus was every moment manifested there.
But we are not disposed to limit this bearing about in
the body the dying of the Lord Jesus to apostolic times.
It is not a thing of one generation merely. "We are not
now called upon, as were our fathers, to do it in the fur-
nace ; the fires of outward persecution have well-nigh
forgotten to burn ; but it has an existence still as actual
and as constant as in days of yore. The Christian
does so every moment of his life, because every
moment of his life he exercises faith in Christ. And
his faith is not only active and appropriating, but
realizing in its tendency: it not only unfolds to him

LIFE, PKOSPECTS, AKD DUTY. 233

the riches and confers on him the blessings of the
mighty offering ; it paints it as a living vision before
the eye of his mind. Darting back through two
thousand years of past time, it places him in the midst
of the crowd gathered at the crucifixion, aye, at the very
foot of the cross. He sees the victim ; there is no delu-
sion in the matter ; he walks along the thronged and
bustling streets ; men cross his path in haste, speeding
away, the one to his farm and the other to his mer-
chandise; he converses with a thousand beings, he
transacts a thousand things; but that scene is ever
before him ; as the magnet of his highest attractions,
his eye always trembles to the cross, and in the midst
of evidence fresher every moment he joins in the cen-
turion language, his glad language too, "Truly this man
was the Son of God." "With such a spectacle as that
before him, how can he live unto the world ? With the
glances of so kind an eye constantly beaming upon him,
how can his desires be on earth? Heaven claims him,
for his treasure and his heart are there. Nay, so
entirely does this death unto sin — for I suppose you
have found out that is what we mean — take possession
of the Christian, that, as the Apostle in another place
expresses it, he is " crucified with Christ." He is not
only an anxious spectator, he is something more, he is a
living sacrifice. He has his cross. As Christ died for
sin, he dies to sin, and they both conquer by dying.
As by the dying of the Saviour, the power of death was
destroyed, and the world was freed from his dominion,

234 THE CHRISTIAN S DEATH,

so by the dying of the sinner, the principle of evil is
dethroned, the new heart is gained, and the man
becomes " a new creature in Christ Jesus."

This is what we imagine the Apostle to mean when he
says of Christians, "Ye are dead;" and as it is only
when we have thus died that we can be truly said to
live, allow us to ask you if you are thus dead unto sin
and alive unto God ? Have you realized this death
unto sin, or this birth unto righteousness? Has this
deep, abiding change passed upon you? Or are you
still living to the world, the circle of this life your
bounded prospect, and its fleeting enjoyments your only
reward? Examine yourselves, brethren, and may the
Spirit help you to a right decision !

II. We pass upward from the truth of death to the
truth of life. "For ye are dead," says the Apostle,
" and your life " — a life that you have notwithstanding
that seeming death — " is hid with Christ in God." In
the creation of God there seems to be nothing absolute
or final; everything seems rather in a rudimentary
state — a state in which it is susceptive of increase,
development, expansion, improvement. It is so in
nature. The seed is cast into the earth; years elapse
before there are the strength and shadow of the tree.
The harvest waves not in its luxuriant beauty at once ;
" there is first the blade, then the ear, after that the full
corn in the ear." And what is thus possible in the ordi-
nary processes of nature is capable of spiritual analogies.

LIFE, PK0SPECT3, AND DUTY. 235

Man ends not in his present condition. The very im-
perfections with which it is fraught, shadow forth a
mightier being. It would seem as if glimpses of this
great truth shot across the minds of the sages of ancient
Greece and Rome. It is interesting to watch their
minds in their various and continual operations, espe-
cially when, as it were, brought out of themselves, to
see them struggling with some great principle just glow-
ing upon them from the darkness of previous thought,
to see them catching occasional glimpses of truth in the
distance, and pressing forward, if haply they might
comprehend it fully. It must have been in one of those
very ecstasies that the idea of immortality first dawned
upon them ; for, after all, crude and imperfect as their
notions were, they must be regarded rather as conjec-
ture than opinion. It was reserved for Christianity, by
her complete revelations, to bring life and immortality
to light, to unfold this master-purpose of the Eternal
Mind, and to give permanence and form to her impres-
sions of the life that dies not. You remember that the
inspired writers, when speaking about the present state
of being, scarcely dignify it with the name of life, com-
pared with the life to be expected; but they tell us
there is provided for us, and awaiting us, a life worthy
of our highest approbation, and of our most cordial en-
deavor ; a life solid, constant, and eternal. This is the
promise " which he hath promised us " — as if there were
no other, as if all others were wrapped up in that great

236 the christian's death,

benediction — " this is the promise which he hath pro-
mised us, even eternal life ;" and of this life they tell ns
that it is "hid with Christ in God."

It is hidden, in the first place, in the sense of secrecy ;
it is concealed, partially developed ; we do not know
much about it. Revelation has not been minute in her
discoveries of the better land. Enough has been re-
vealed to confirm our confidence and to exalt our faith.
The outlines of the purpose are sketched out before us,
but the details are withheld. Hence, of the life to come
the Apostle tells us that "we know in part, we see
as through a glass darkly ;" through a piece of smoked
glass like that through which we look at an eclipse of
the sun ; our senses can give us no information concern-
ing it, for it is beyond their province ; reason cannot
find it out, for it banies her proudest endeavors. We
may go to the depth in search of this wisdom : " the
depth saith, It is not in me." Imagination may plume
her finest pinion, and revel in the ideal magnificence
she can bring into being ; she may so exalt and amplify
the images of the life that is, as to picture forth the ]ife
that will be ; it is a hidden life still, for it hath not en-
tered into the heart of man to conceive it; shadows
dense and impervious hang on its approach ; clouds and
darkness are round about its throne. And we are
equally destitute of information from experience. None
of those white-robed companies, who have enjoyed this
life from the beginning, have been commissioned to
explain tons its truths; none of those now venerable

LIFE, PROSPECTS, AND DUTY. 237

ones, who have travelled the road, who have experienced
the change, have returned ; they come not full fraught
with the tidings of eternity to tell to the heedful multi-
tudes tales from beyond the grave. Those dark and
silent chambers effectually cut off all communication
between the mortal and the changed. We may interro-
gate the spirits of the departed, but there is no voice,
not even the echo of our own. We do not complain of
this secrecy, because we believe it to be a secrecy of
mercy. The eye of the mind, like the eye of the body,
was dazzled with excess of light ; and if the full reali-
ties of the life to come were to burst upon us, we should
be dazzled into blindness ; there would be a wreck of
reason, and the balance of the mind's powers would be
irrecoverably gone. Moreover, we walk by faith, not
by sight, and a fuller revelation would neutralize some
of the most efficient means for the preservation of
spiritual life, and bring anarchy and discord into the
beautiful arrangements of God. Thus is this hiding
beneficial to believers. Yes, and I will go further than
that : to the sinner it is a secrecy of mercy. Wonder
not at that. Imagine not that if this vacant area could
be filled to-day with a spirit of perdition, with the
thunder scar of the Eternal on his brow, and his heart
writhing under the blasted immortality of hell, then
surely if he could tell the secrets of his prison-house
those who are now among the impenitent would be
affrighted, and repent and turn. " I tell you nay, foi
if they hear not Moses and the prophets neither would

238

they be persuaded though, one were to rise from the
dead."

Just another thought here on this head. Especially
is this life hidden in the sense of secrecy, in the hour
and the article of death. An awful change passes upon
one we love, and who has loved the Lord Jesus Christ.
He looks pale and motionless ; we see not the glances
of his eye, we hear not the music of his voice, and as he
lies stretched breathless in his slumbers, it is very diffi-
cult to believe that he is not dead. " But he is not dead,
but sleepeth." Can you credit it, O ye mourners? Is
there no chord in your stricken hearts, ye bereaved
ones, that trembles responsive to the tone, " he is not
dead, but sleepeth ?" His life is with him yet as warm,
and as young, and as energetic as in days gone by ; only
it is hidden " with Christ in God." We mourn you not,
ye departed ones that have* died in the faith, for ye have
entered into life. Natural affection bids us weep, and
give your tombs the tribute of a tear, but we dare not
recall you. Ye live ; we are the dying ones ; ye live in
the smile and blessing of God. Our life is " hid with
Christ in God."

And then it is hidden, secondly, not only in the
sense of secrecy, but in the sense of security, laid up,
treasured up, kept safely by the power of Christ. The
great idea seems to be this : the enemy of God, a lion
broken loose, is going round the universe in search of
the Christian's life, that he may undermine and destroy
it ; but he cannot find it ; God has hidden it ; it is hid-

LIFE, PKOSPECTS, AND DUTY. 239

den with Christ in God. It is a very uncertain and
precarious tenure upon which we hold all our posses
sions here ; everything connected with the present life
is fleeting ; plans formed in oversight and executed in
wisdom are, by adverse circumstances, rendered abor-
tive and fruitless ; gourds grow for our shade, and we
sit under them with delight ; the mildew comes, and
they are withered ; friends twine themselves around
our affections, and as we come to know them well and
love them, they are sure to die ; and upon crumbling
arch, and ruined wall, and battlemented height, and
cheeks all pale that but awhile ago blushed at the
praise of their own loveliness, old Time has graven in
the word of the preacher, that there is nothing un-
changeable in man except his tendency to change.
But it is a characteristic of the future life, that it is
that which abideth ; the lapse of time affects not those
who live eternally ; theirs is immortal youth ; no ene-
my, however organized and mighty, can avail to de-
prive them of it; no opposition, however subtile and
powerful, can wrest it from him with whom it is secure.
Where is it hidden ? "With Christ ; the safest place in
the universe, surely, for anything belonging to Christ's
people. Where he is, in that land irradiated with his
presence, and brightening under the sunshine of his
love ; on that mountain whose sacred inclosure God's
glory pavilions, and within which there shall in nowise
enter anything that shall hurt or destroy. Where is
this hidden ? In God, in the great heart of God, who

24:0 THE CHRISTIAN S DEATH,

is never faithless to his promise, and whose perfections
are pledged to confer it upon persevering believers.
Oh, we will not fear. Unbelief may suggest to us its
thoughts of suspicion and warning ; fear may shrink
back appalled from a way so untried and dangerous ;
passion may stir our unruly elements in our too carnal
minds, and presumptuously fight against our faith ; our
ancient enemy may do his best to aggravate into in-
tenser force the giant war ; but we will not fear ; our
life shall be given to us, for it is hidden with Christ in
God. Even now, in the prospect, we feel a joy of
which the world wotteth not— heart-warm, fervent,
entrancing, a joy which we may suffer to roam un-
checked in its raptures because it is based upon the
truth divine.

III. "We pass on, thirdly, to the Christian's prospects.
" When Christ, who is our life, shall appear, then shall
ye also appear with him in glory."

These words imply two things : first, enjoyment; and
secondly, manifestation.

They imply, first, enjoyment. "We observed before,
that revelation has not been minute in her discoveries
of the better land ; we have the outlines of the purpose
before us, but the details are withheld ; and yet enough
is revealed not merely to fulfill, but to exalt our highest
hopes. The similitudes under which the recompense is
presented in Scripture cannot fail to fill us with antici-
pations of the most delightful kind. It is brought be-
fore us, you remember, as an inheritance, incorruptible]

LIFE, PROSPECTS, AND DUTY. 241

and undefiled ; as a paradise ever vernal and blooming -
and, best of all, amid those trees of life there lnrks no
serpent to destroy; as a country through whose vast
region we shall traverse with nntired footsteps, and
every fresh revelation of beauty will augment our
knowledge, and holiness, and joy; as a city whose
every gate is of jewelry, whose every street is a sun-
track, whose wall is an immortal bulwark, and whose
ever-spreading splendor is the glory of the Lord ; as a
temple through which gusts of praise are perpetually
sweeping the anthems of undying hosannas ; above all,
as our Father's house where Christ is, where our elder
brother is, making the house ready for the younger
ones, where all we love is clustered, where the out-
no wings of parental affection thrill and gladden, and
where the mind is spell-bound, for aye, amid the sweet
sorceries of an everlasting home. Is there no enjoy-
ment in images like these ? Does not the very thought
of them make the fleet blood rush the fleeter through
the veins % And yet these and far more are the pros-
pects of the Christian : knowledge without the shadow
of an error, and increasing throughout eternity ; friend-
ship that never unclasps its hand, or relaxes from its
embraces ; holiness without spot or wrinkle, or any such
thing ; the presence of God in beatific and imperishable
vision, combine to make him happy each moment, and
to make him happy forever.

Then these words imply manifestation as well as
enjoyment. " When Christ, who is our life, shall

11

242 the christian's death,

appear, then shall ye also appear with him in glory."
The world says : " You talk about your life being hid-
den ; the fact is, it is lost ; it is only a gloss of yours to
say it is hidden." But it is not lost, it is only hidden ;
and when Christ, who has it, shall appear, " then shall
ye also appear," to the discomfiture of scoffers and to
the admiration of all them that believe ; " then shall ye
also appear with him in glory. The worldling looks at
Christians now, and, in some of his reflective moods, he
finds a great difference between them, but it is a diffe-
rence he can hardly understand. With his usual short-
sightedness, and with his- usual self-complacency, he
imagines the advantage to be altogether upon his own
side ; he looks at the outside of the man, and judges
foolish, judgment. Perhaps he glances at his garments,
and they are tattered, it may be, and homely, and Jie
turns away with affected disdain. Ah ! he knows not
that beneath that beggar's robe there throbs a prince's
soul. Wait a while ; bide your time ; stop until the
manifestation of the sons of God. With what different
feelings will earth's despised ones be regarded at the
bar of judgment and before the throne divine! How
will they appear when they are confessed, recognized,
honored, in the day when he is ashamed of the wicked,
and when the hell beneath and the hell within will
make them ashamed of themselves ? " Beloved," says
the rejoicing Apostle, " now are we the sons of God;"
that is something, that is no mean gift, that is no small
bestowment, to have that in hand ; " now are we the

LIFE, PROSPECTS, AND DUTY. 243

sons of God." " Salvation," it is as if the Apostle had
said, " is a small thing, a thing unworthy of. God ;" it is
a small thing to take a captive out of a dungeon, and
turn him loose upon the cold world's cruel scorn ; it is
a grand thing to take a captive out of a dungeon, and
set him on a throne ; and that is done with all those
who believe on Jesus: being justified by faith, they
have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ.
" And if children " (for they have received the adop-
tion of sons), " then heirs, heirs of God, and joint-heirs
with Christ." Oh ! salvation is not to be named in con-
nection with the grand, the august, the stately splendor,
the sonship, which is given unto those who put their
trust in Christ. "Beloved, now are we the sons of
God ; but it doth not yet appear what we shall be ;" so
transcendent, so surpassing is the recompense, that we
cannot conceive it now ;. " it doth not yet appear what
we shall be ;" it doth not yet appear even to ourselves ;
we shall be as much astonished at the splendor of the
recompense as any one beside. Oh ! when we are
launched into the boundless, when the attentive ear
catches the first tones of heaven's melody, when there
burst upon the dazzled eye the earliest glimpse of
beatific vision, how shall we be ready almost to doubt
our own identity — " Is this I ? It cannot be the same.
Is this the soul that was racked with anxiety and
dimmed with prejudice, and stained with sin ? Is this
the soul whose every passion was its tempter, and that
was harassed with an all-absorbing fear of never reach-

244 the christian's death,

ing heaven ? Why, not an enemy molests it now ; not
a throb shoots across it now ; those waters that used to
look so angry and so boisterous, how peacefully they
ripple upon the everlasting shore ; and this body, once
so frail and so mortal, is it, can it be, the same ? Why,
the eye dims not now; the cheek is never blanched
with sudden pain ; the fingers are not awkward now ;
but, without a teacher, they strike the harp of gold, and
transmit along the echoes of eternity the song of Moses
and the Lamb. This is conjecture, you say; not, we
hope, unwarranted ; but even now, dark as our glimpse
is, unworthy as our conceptions are of the promised
recompense, there is enough to exalt us into the poet's
ecstasy, when, throned upon his own privilege, he
sings :

" On all the kings of earth
"With pity we look down ;
And claim, in virtue of our birth,
A never-fading crown."

IV. And now, then, you are ready for the duty, I
am sure. " For your life is hid with Christ in God.
When Christ, who is our life, shall appear, then shall
ye also appear with him in glory." "Set your affection
on things above." Oh, how solemnly it comes, with all
this exceeding weight of privilege to back it! It
silences the question urged, it overrides gainsay ; it is
emphatic and solemn, and to the Christian resistless.
"Set your affections on things above." For a Christian
to be absorbed in the gainfnlness of the world, or fasci-

LIFE, PROSPECTS, AND DUTY. 24o

nated by its pleasures, is at once a grievous infatuation
and a sin. It is as if a prince of high estate and regal
lineage were to demean himself in the haunts of beg-
gars, to the loss of dignity and imperilling the honor of
his crown. "What have you, the blood-royal of heaven,
to do with this vain and fleeting show ? Arise, depart ;
this is not your rest; it is polluted. And yet how
many of you have need of the exhortation this morning,
a Set your affections on things above V9 Have you not
— now let the spirit of searching come unto you — have
you not, by your cupidity, avarice, and huckstering lust
of gain, distanced the world's devotees in what they
had been accustomed to consider their own peculiar
walk ? Have you not trodden so near the line of
demarcation between professor and profane, that you
have almost trodden on it, and almost trodden it out ?
Have you not, strangely enamored of visions of distant
joy, postponed as uninnuential and unworthy, the joy
that abideth, or, like the man in the allegory, raked up
with a perseverance that in aught else might have been
laudable, the straws beneath your feet, while above
your head there glittered the diadem of glory? Oh,
awake ! arise ! this is not your rest ; it is polluted.
" Set your affections on things above, and not on things
on the earth." If riches be your possession, be thank-
ful for them ; do all the good with them you can ; if
friends make music in your dwelling, regard them as
rose-leaves scattered upon life, and by and by to drop
from life away. Seek for bags that wax not old, friends

246 the christian's death,

that neither weep nor change in the nnintermitting
reunions of heaven's own glory.

How does this prospect of glory breathe encourage-
ment to the soul in the sad season of bereavement !
"He that believeth in Jesus"— this is the promise —
" though he were dead, yet shall he live, and whosoever
liveth and believeth on Jesus shall never die." Still
sounds that great utterance of the Master running along
the whole line of being, heard over the graves of the
loved, amid rustling leaf and fading flower, and wither-
ing grass, and dying man, " He that liveth and believeth
in Jesus shall never die." Orphan, believest thou this ?
Widow, from whom the desire of thine eyes has been
taken away with a stroke, believest thou this? Ah!
some of us have got friends safe-housed above the
regions of the shadow and the storm, but we would not
bring them back again. "We would sing for them the
hallowed paean :

" By the bright waters now thy lot is cast,
Joy for thee ! happy friend ; thy bark hath passed

The rough sea's foam.
Now the long yearnings of thy soul are stilled,

Home, home!
Thy peace is won, thy heart is filled !
Thou art gone home."

But we can listen to the voice which they And time to
whisper to us in some of the rests of the music : " Be ye
therefore followers of us who now, through faith and
patience, are inheriting the promises."

LIFE, PEOSPECTS, AND DUTY. 24:7

Some of you liave not got, perhaps, to the realization
of this promise yet. There is a misgiving within ; there
is a yet unsettled controversy between your Maker and
yourself. You have not seen Jesus; you have not
heard the pardoning voice or felt the power of the re-
conciling plan. Oh, come to Christ. To-day the Holy
Spirit of Christ is here, waiting to take of the precious
things of Christ, and to show them unto you ; waiting
this morning to do honor to Jesus. Hallow the conse-
cration of this house by the consecration of the living
temple of your hearts. God is no longer the unknown
God, to be viewed with servile apprehension, or fol-
lowed with slavish dread ; he is God in Christ, recon-
ciling the world unto himself. Redemption is no longer
a theorem to be demonstrated, a problem to be solved,
a riddle to be guessed by the wayward and the wander-
ing ; it is the great fact of the universe that Jesus Christ
hath, by the grace of God, tasted death once for every
man. Mercy is no longer a fitful and capricious exer-
cise of benevolence ; it is the very power, and justice,
and truth of God. A just God: look that out in the
Gospel dictionary, and you will find it means a Saviour.
Heaven is no longer a fortress to be besieged, a city to
be taken, a high, impregnable elevation to be scaled ;
it is the grand metropolis of the universe, to which the
King, in his bounty, has thrown up a royal high-road
for his people, even through the blood of his Son. Oh,
come to Jesus with full surrender of heart, and all these
blessings shall be yours. Some do not hold this Ian-

248 the christian's death, etc.

guage ; they belong to this world, and are not ashamed
to confess it. " Bring fresh garlands ; let the song be
of wine and of beauty ; build fresh and greater barns,
where I may bestow my fruits and goods." But then
cometh the end. " The rich man died and was buried,
and in hell lifted up his eyes, being in torment ; and
seeth Abraham afar off, and Lazarus in his bosom ; he
cried and said " — -the only prayer that I know of, the
whole Bible through, to a saint or angel, and that by a
damned spirit, and never answered — "I pray thee,
father Abraham, that thou wouldst send Lazarus that
he may dip the tip of his ringer in water, and cool my
tongue, for I am tormented in this name." Listen to it,
the song of the lost worldling in hell. Who will set it
co music ? Which heart is tuning for it now ? Sinner,
is it thine ? Is it thine ? Don't put that question away.
Ask yourselves and your consciences in the sight of
God, and then come, repent of all your sins, flee for re-
fuge to the hope that is laid before you in the Gospel,
trusting in serene and child-like reliance upon Christ.
Only believe, and yours shall be the heritage in the
world to come.

X.

THE APOSTLE'S GROUND OF TRUST.

" But what things were gain to me, those I counted loss for Christ.
Yea, doubtless, and I count all things but loss for the excellency of the
knowledge of Christ Jesus my Lord ; for whom I have suffered the loss
of all things, and do count them but dung, that I may win Christ." —
Philippians iil . 7, 8.

There can be no sense of bondage in the soul when
the tongue utters words like these. Albeit they flow
from the lips of a prisoner, they have the true ring of
the inner freedom, of the freedom which cannot be
cribbed in dungeons. They are the expressions of a
far-sighted trust which yields to no adverse circum-
stances, which endures, as seeing him who is invisible,
in the confidence of quiet power. There was a very
tender relationship subsisting between Paul and the
Philippian Church. They had sent Epaphroditus to
visit him in his prison at Home, to bear him their sym-
pathies, and to administer their liberality, in his hour
of need; and in return for their kindness, and as a
token of his unfailing love, he addressed them this
epistle. It is remarkable that it contains no solitary
word of rebuke, that it recognizes in them the exist-

11* 249

250 THE APOSTLE'S GROUND OF TRUST.

ence of a grateful and earnest piety, and that it aims
throughout at their consolation and encouragement.
In the commencement of the present chapter he warns
them against certain Judaizing teachers, who would
fain have recalled them to the oldness of the letter, and
who made the commandments of God of none effect by
their tradition. "Beware of dogs, beware of evil-
workers, beware of the concision." He tells them that
the true seed of Abraham, the royal heritors of the
covenant, are those who worship God in the spirit, and
rejoice in Christ Jesus, and have no confidence in the
flesh. He proceeds to remind them that if there were
benefit in external trusts, he stood upon a vantage-
ground of admitted superiority. "Though I might
also have confidence in the flesh. If any other man
thinketh that he hath whereof he might trust in the
flesh, I more : Circumcised the eighth day, of the stock
of Israel, of the tribe of Benjamin, an Hebrew of the
Hebrews ; as touching the law, a Pharisee ; concerning
zeal, persecuting the Church ; touching the righteous-
ness which is in the law, blameless." But, putting all
this aside, renouncing these grounds of confidence as
carnal and delusive, resting in sublime reliance upon
Christ, he records the noble declaration of the text, at
once the enduring testimony of his own faith and the
perpetual strength of theirs. " But what things were
gain to me, those I counted loss for Christ. Yea, doubt-
less, and I count all things but loss for the excellency
of the knowledge of Christ Jesus my Lord ; for whom

THE APOSTLE'S GROUND OF TRUST. 251

I have suffered the loss of all things, and do count them
but dung, that I may win Christ." "We can conceive
of no testimony better calculated than this to cheer the
timid, or to confirm the wavering, to silence the mis-
givings of the doubtful, or cause the inquiring soul to
sing for joy. All the conditions which we can possibly
desire in order to render testimony accredited and valu-
able, are to be found here. It is not the utterance of a
man of weak mind, infirm of purpose and irresolute in
action, whose adhesion would damage rather than fur-
ther any cause he might espouse. It is Paul, the Apos-
tle, who speaks, the sharp-witted student of Gamaliel,
a match for the proudest Epicurean, versed in scholastic
subtilties and in all the poetry and philosophy of the
day, with a mental glance keen as lightning, and a
mental grasp strong as steel. It is not the utterance
of youth, impassioned and, therefore, hasty; sanguine
of imagined good, and pouring out its prodigal applause.
It is Paul, the man, who speaks, with ripened wisdom
on his brow, and gathering around him the experience
of years. It is not the utterance of the man of heredi-
tary belief, bound in the fetters of the past, strong in
the sanctities of early education, who has imbibed a
traditional and unintelligent attachment to the profes-
sion of his fathers. It is Paul, the some-time persecutor,
who speaks, the noble quarry which the arrows of the
Almighty struck down when soaring in its pride. It is
he who now rests tenderly upon the cause which he so
lately labored to destroy. It. is not, finally, the utter-

252

ance of inexperience, which, awed by the abiding im-
pression of one supernatural event, and having briefly
realized new hopes and new joys, pronounces prema-
turely a judgment which it would afterward reverse.
It is Paul, the aged, who speaks, who is not ignorant
of what he says and whereof he doth affirm, who has
rejoiced in the excellent knowledge through all the
vicissitudes of a veteran's life ; alike amid the misgiv-
ings of a Church slow to believe his conversion, and
amid the dissipation and perils of his journeys ; alike
when first worshipped and then stoned at Lystra, in the
prison at Philippi, and in the Areopagus at Athens ;
alike when in the early council it strengthened him,
"born out of due time," to withstand to the face of
Peter, the elder Apostle, because he was to be blamed,
and when, melted into almost womanly tenderness on
the sea-shore at Miletus, it nerved him for the heart-
breaking of that sad farewell ; alike when buffeting
the wintry blasts of the Adriatic, and when standing
silver-haired and solitary before the bar of ]STero. It
is he of amplest experience who has tried it under
every conceivable circumstance of mortal lot, who,
now that his eye has lost its early fire, and the spring
and summei are gone from him, feels its genial glow
in the kindly winter of his years. Where can we find
testimony more conclusive and valuable ? Hear it, ye
craven spirits, who would dastardly forswear the Master,
and let it shame you into Christian manhood ! Hear it,
ye bruised and tender souls, that dare hardly venture

253

faith ok. Jesus, and catching inspiration and courage
from it, let your voices be heard :

" Hence, and forever from my heart,
I bid my doubts and fears depart,
And to those hands my soul resign,
Which bear credentials so divine."

In the further exhibition of this passage to-night, we
ought to refer, in the first place, to the Apostle's insuf-
ficient grounds of trust, and secondly, to the compen-
sating power of the excellency of the knowledge of
Christ. I greatly fear, however, that the first part
of the subject will be all that I can manage to compass
within the time allotted for this evening's service.
Our remarks will, therefore, mainly dwell upon the
grounds of trust which the Apostle here repudiates:
" "What things were gain to me, those I counted loss for
Christ."

There is something remarkable in the way in which
the Apostle refers to the past, and the respectful manner
in which he speaks of the faith of his fathers, and of his
youth. It is often a sign rather of servility than of
independence when men vilify their former selves.
The Apostle had not renounced Judaism in any moment
of passion, nor in any prejudice of novelty. Strong con-
victions had forced him out of his old belief. He had
emerged into a faith purer and more satisfying far.
Bat there were memories connected with the fulfilled
dispensation which he would not willingly let die.

254

There were phases of his own inner life there. For long
years, Judaism had been to him his only interpreter of
the divine, the only thing which met a religions
instinct, active beyond that of ordinary men. The
grounds of trust which he now found to be insufficient,
had been the halting-places of his soul in its progress
from the delusive to the abiding, from the shadowy to
the true. He could not forget that there hung around
the system he had abandoned, an ancient and tra-
ditional glow : it was of God's own architecture ; the
pattern and its gorgeous ceremonial had been given by
himself in the Mount ; all its furniture spoke of him in
sensuous manifestation and magnificent appeal. His
breath had quivered upon the lips of its prophets, and
had lashed its seers into their sacred frenzy. He was
in its temple service, and in its holy of holies; amid
shapes of heavenly sculpture, the light of his presence
ever rested in merciful repose. How could the Apostle
assail it with wanton outrage or flippant sarcasm ?
True, it had fulfilled its mission, and now that the age
of spirituality and power had come, it was no longer
needed ; but the halo was yet upon its brow, and like
the light which lingers above the horizon long after the
setting of the sun, there shone about it a dim but
heavenly splendor. While, however, the Apostle was
not slow to confess that there was glory in that which
was to be done away, he was equally bold in affirming
its absolute worthlessness in comparison with the yet
greater glory of that which remained. " "What things

THE APOSTLE'S GROUND OF TRUST. 255

were gain to me, those I counted loss for Christ." It
will be found, I think, to be remarkable in the review
of the grounds of trust, which the Apostle here repu-
diates, how much there is kindred to them in the
aspects of modern faith, and how multitudes now cling
to them with tenacity, and hope to find in them their
present and eternal gain. Let us remind you, then, for
a few moments, of the catalogue of trusts which the
Apostle tried and repudiated.

The first thing he mentions, is sacramental efficacy.
" Circumcised on the eighth day." He names circum-
cision first, because it was the early and indispensable
sacrament of the Jewish people, the seal of the
Mosaic covenant, the distinguishing badge of the
Israelites from all other nations of mankind. Moreover,
he tells us he had the advantage of early initiation :
" Circumcised the eighth day." The Gentile proselytes
could, of course, only observe the rite at the period of
conversion, which might be in manhood or in age. But
Paul was hallowed from his youth, from the eighth day
of his life introduced into the federal arrangement, and
solemnly consecrated to the service of the Lord. He
was not insensible to this external advantage, but he
does not hesitate to proclaim it worthless as a ground
of acceptance with God. There are multitudes by
whom baptism is regarded in the same reverent light as
was circumcision by the Jews of old. If they do not
absolutely rejoice in it, as the manner of some is, as the
instrument of their regeneration, at least they have a

256 the apostle's grotjnd of trust.

vague notion of a benefit which they deem it to have
conferred, and are living on the unexhausted credit of
their parents' faith and prayer. If, in adult age, they
make any profession of religion, it is by partaking of the
Eucharist, whose elements they invest with mystic and
transforming power. There is no inward change in
them. They are conscious of no painstaking and daily
struggle with corruption. They have no conflict for a
mastery over evil. No percptible improvement passes
upon their conduct and habits from their periodical
communions. And yet, absolutely, their only hope for
the future, springs from the grace of the baptismal font,
and from the efficacy of the sacramental table ; for they
persuade themselves into the belief that as by the ordi-
nance of baptism there was a mysterious conveyance to
them of the title-deeds of an inheritance, so by the
excellent mystery of the Lord's Supper, they are as
inexplicably ripened into meetness for its possession.
Brethren, we would not under-value the ordinances of
God's appointing. We are not insensible to the benefit
when believing parents dedicate their offspring unto
God, when the hand of parental faith rests upon the ark
of the covenant, and claims that there should be shed
out upon the little ones the spiritual influences of the
Holy Ghost. Chiefest among our religious memories,
treasured in the soul with a delight which is almost awe,
are some of those holy .communions, when — the life
infused into the bread, the power into the wine — Christ
has been evidently set forth before his grateful wor-

257

shippers, and strong consolations have trooped up to the
heavenly festival. But it must not be forgotten that all
the graces of ordinances, all the beatific and inspiring
comforts which flow through divinely appointed ser-
vices, are not in the services themselves, but in the
fullness of the loving Saviour, the anointed one in the
vision of Zechariah, without whom and without whose
Spirit they could have neither efficacy nor power.
Precious as are the collateral benefits of baptism, and
hallowing as are the strength and blessing of the Holy
Eucharist, we do solemnly proclaim them worthless as
grounds of acceptance before God. Hear it, ye bap-
tized, but unbelieving members of our congregation !
Hear it, ye devout and earnest communicants ! Sacra-
ments have no atoning virtue, no value at all except as
avenues to lead the soul to Christ ; and if, in a trust
like this, you pass your lives, and if, in the exercise of a
trust like this, you die, for you there can remain no-
thing but the agonizing wakening from a deception that
will have outlasted life, and the cry wailed from the
outside of a door, forever barred, ""We were early dedi-
cated unto thee ! were accounted as thy followers ; we
have eaten and drank in thy presence ; Lord, Lord,
open unto us." That is the first ground of trust which
the Apostle here disclaims.

Passing on in the catalogue, we find that the second
repudiated confidence is an honored parentage, " Of the
stock of Israel, of the tribe of Benjamin, a Hebrew of
the Hebrews." To have been circumcised the eighth

258

day, proved that he had been born of parents professing
the Jewish faith ; but, inasmuch as the Gentile prose-
lytes also observed the rites of circumcision, it did not
prove that he had been descended of the family of
Israel. He, therefore, shows that in purity of lineal
descent, in all those hereditary honors upon which men
dwell with pride, he could boast with the proudest of
them all. He was of the stock of Israel. But ten of
the tribes had revolted from their allegiance to Jehovah,
had soiled their nobility by their vices, had entered
into degrading companionship with surrounding idola-
ters. He, therefore, reminds them further, that he was
of the tribe of Benjamin ; illustrious, because it had
given the first king to Israel ; more illustrious, because,
at the apostasy of Jeroboam it maintained purity of
Divine worship, and held itself faithful among the
faithlessness of many. Moreover, he had not been
introduced into the federal relationship by personal
adoption nor by the conversion of his fathers. There
had been in his ancestry no Gentile intermarriages ; he
was " a Hebrew of the Hebrews." His genealogy was
pure on both sides. There was no bar sinister in his
arms. He was a lineal inheritor of the adoption, and
the glory, and the covenant. There was much in all
this on which in those times the Apostle might have
dwelt with pride ; men, generally vaunt those honors
which are theirs by birth. "

It was no light thing surely, then, to belong to nobi-
lity that could trace its far descent from the wor tines

259

of the older world, to have for his ancestors those
anointed and holy patriarchs who trod the young earth
when nn wrinkled by sorrow, undimmed by crime,
untouched by the wizard wand of time ; to have in his
veins the same blood that marched proudly over the
fallen ramparts of Jericho, or that bade the affrighted
sun stand still at Gibeon, or that quailed beneath the
dread thunders of the mount that burned. And yet all
this accumulated pride of ancestral honor the Apostle
counted " loss for Christ." That the Jews prided them-
selves on their descent from Abraham, you may gather
from many passages of Scripture. You remember
when our Saviour was conversing with them on the
inner freedom, he was rudely interrupted with the
words, " We be Abraham's children ; we were never in
bondage to any man." And that they regarded this
descent from Abraham as in some sort a passport to
heaven, we may gather from the Saviour's rebuke :
" Think not to say within yourselves, we have Abraham
to our father, for I say unto you, that of these stones
God is able to raise up children unto Abraham." And
there are multitudes now, brethren, who have no better
hope than this. There are many in this land of ours
who are stifling the misgivings of conscience, and the
convictions of the Holy Spirit, with the foolish thought
that they have been born in a Christian country, sur-
rounded with an atmosphere of privilege, or are the
sons " of parents passed into the skies."
Look at that holy patriarch, forsaken of kindred,

260

bankrupt in property, and slandered in reputation,
" Afflicted grievously and tempted sore," and yet hold-
ing an integrity as fast in his sackcloth as ever he did
in his purple, and amid terrible reverses blessing the
goodness which but claimed the gift it gave ! Mark
that honorable counsellor, pious amid cares of state,
and pomps, and pleasure, walking with God amid the
tumult and luxury of Babylon, and from the compa-
nionship of kings speeding to his chamber that had its
lattice open toward Jerusalem ! Listen to that preacher
of righteousness, as now with earnest exhortation, and
now with blameless life, he testifies to the whole world,
and warns it of its coming doom, and then, safe in the
heaven-shut ark, is borne by the billows of ruin to a
mount of safety. "What sublime examples of consist-
ency and piety are here ! Surely, if a parent's faith
can avail for children anything, it will be in the families
of Noah, Daniel, and Job !

JSTow, listen — listen — ye who rest on traditional faith,
ye who are making a raft of your parents' piety to float
you over the dark, stormy water into church fellowship
here, and into heavenly fellowship hereafter — listen to
the solemn admonition : " Though these three men,
JSToah, Daniel, and Job, were in it, as I live they should
deliver but their own souls by their righteousness, saith
the Lord God." Alas ! if the grandson of Moses was
an idolatrous priest; if the children of Samuel per-
verted judgment and took bribes; if David, the man
after God's own heart, mourned in hopeless agony over

261

Absalom dead ! how sad the witness that religion is not
a hereditary possession ! how appalling the danger lest
you, children of pious parents, nursed in the lap and
surrounded with the atmosphere of godliness, should
pass down into a heritage of wrath and sorrow, aggra-
vated into intenser hell for you by the remembrances
of the piety of your fathers ! That is the second ground
of trust which the Apostle disclaims.

Passing on .in the catalogue, we find that the next
repudiated confidence is religious authority. " As
touching the law, a Pharisee." This was not the first
time the Apostle had made this affirmation. You
remember that before the tribunal of the high priest,
he affirmed, with a not unholy pride, "lama Pharisee,
the son of a Pharisee." And, at Agrippa's judgment-
seat, he appealed even to the infuriated Jews whether
he had not, according to the straightest sect of their
religion, lived a Pharisee. And, indeed, there was
much in those early times which an honest Pharisee
might be excused for counting gain. The word has got
in our days, to be regarded as a sort of synonym for all
that is hypocritical and crafty ; but a Pharisee in the
Jewish times, an honest, earnest Pharisee, was a man
not to be despised. In an age of prevailing indiffe-
rence, the Pharisee rallied around him all the godly,
religious spirit of the time. In an age of prevailing
skepticism, the Pharisee protested nobly against the
free-thinking Sadducee, and against the courtly Herod-
ian. In an age of prevailing laxity, the Pharisee incul-

262 the apostle's ground of trust.

eated, by precept at all events, austerity of morals and
sanctity of life. There might be ostentation in his
broad phylacteries ; at all events, it showed he was not
ashamed of the texts which he had traced out upon
the parchment. A love of display might prompt the
superb decorations with which he gilded the tombs
of the prophets ; at all events, and that is no small
virtue, he had not ceased to honor the memory of
righteousness. There might be self-glory in his fasts,
rigidly observed, and in his tithes, paid to the uttermost
farthing; at all events, there was recognition of the
majesty, and obedience to the letter of the law. I
repeat it, in those early times there was much which
an honest Pharisee might be excused for counting gain.
But this also the Apostle " counted loss for Christ."

There are multitudes now, I need not remind you,
whose trust is their orthodoxy, whose zeal is their par-
tisanship, whose munition of rocks is their union with
the people of God. There is some danger, believe me,
lest even the tender and hallowed associations of the
Church should weaken the sense of individual respon-
sibility. We are apt to imagine, amid the round of
decorous externalisms, when the sanctuary is attractive
and the minister approved, when there is peace in the
borders and wealth in the treasury, when numbers do
not diminish, and all that is conventionally excellent is
seen, that our own piety must necessarily shine in the
lustre of the mass, that we are spiritually healthy, and
need neither counsel nor warning.

263

The Church to which we belong, perhaps, has " a
name to live;" and we imagine that the life of the
aggregate must, in some mysterious manner, imply the
life of the individual. And though our conscience re-
proach us sometimes, and though we are frivolous in
our practice, and censorious in our judgment of others,
and though, in our struggle with evil, the issue is some-
times compromise and sometimes defeat, although at-
tendances at religious ordinances, an occasional and
stifled emotion under a sermon, a spasm of convulsive
activity, a hurried and heartless prayer, are really the
whole of our religion — we are sitting in our sealed
houses, we pass among our fellows for reputable and
painstaking Christians, and are dreaming that a joyous
entrance will be ministered to us abundantly at last.
0, for thunder-pealing words to crash over the souls
of formal and careless professors of religion, and startle
them into the life of God ! I do solemnly believe that
there are thousands in our congregations, in different
portions of the land, who are thus dead while they are
seeming to live ; and with all fidelity I would warn you
of your danger. It is a ghastly sight when the flowers
of religious profession trick out a mortal corpse. It is
a sad entombment when the church or chapel is the
vault of the coffined spirit, "dead in trespasses and
sins." That is the third ground of trust which the
Apostle here disclaims.

Passing on in the catalogue, we find that the fourth
repudiated confidence is intense earnestness, " Concern-

264

ing zeal, persecuting the Church." There was much in
this that would awake a responsive chord in the heart
of a bigoted Jew. The Apostle tells us he was present
at the martyrdom of Stephen ; and in his zeal for the
repression of what he deemed to be a profane mystery,
he made havoc of the Church, breathed out threaten-
ings and slaughter, and persecuted unto the death.
Often, indeed, did the sad memory press upon him in
his after life, bowing him to contrition and tears. " I
am less than the least of the apostles, that am not meet
to be called an apostle, because I persecuted the Church
of God." But there is incontestable evidence in all
this of his zeal for the Jewish faith, that he did not hold
the truth in unrighteous indolence, but that he exerted
himself for its promulgation; that devotion with him
was not a surface sentiment, nor an educational neces-
sity, but a principle grasping, in the strong hand of its
power, every energy of his nature, and infibered with the
deepest affections of his soul. And there was much in all
this, which men around him were accustomed to regard
as gain ; but this also he esteemed " as loss for Christ."
I know no age of the world, brethren, when claim for
the gainfulness of zeal, abstract zeal, would be more
readily conceded than in the age in which we live.
Earnestness, it is the god of this age's reverence. Men
do not scrutinize too closely the characters of the heroes
they worship. Mad ambition may guide the despotic
hand ; brain may be fired with dark schemes of tyranny;
the man may be a low-souled infidel, or a vile seducer;

THE APOSTLE S GROUND OF TRUST. 265

he may be a poet stained with licentiousness, or a war-
rior stained with blood ; let him be but earnest, and
there is a niche for him in the modern Pantheon. And,
as it is an understood principle that the character of the
worshippers assimilates to the beings they worship, the
devotees have copied their idols, and this is an earnest
age. The trade spirit is in earnest ; bear witness, those
of you who have felt its pressure. Hence the unpre-
cedented competitions of business ; hence the gambling,
which would rather leap into wealth by speculation,
than achieve it by industry ; hence the intense, the un-
flagging, indomitable, almost universal greed of gain.
Men are earnest in the pursuit of knowledge. The
press teems with cheap, and not always wholesome,
literature. Science is no longer the heritage of the
illuminati, but of the masses. _ The common mind has
become voracious in its appetite to know; and a cry
has gone up from the people which cannot be disre-
garded, " Give us knowledge, or else we die." It is
manifest in all departments and in every walk of life.
Men live faster than they used to do. In politics, in
science, in pleasure, he is, he must be earnest who suc-
ceeds. He must speak loudly and earnestly who would
win the heedful multitudes to listen. Such is the im-
petuosity of the time, that the timid and the vacillating
find no foothold on the pavement of life, and are every
moment in peril of being overborne and jostled aside,
trampled down beneath the rude waves of the rushing

and earnest crowd.

12

266 THE APOSTLE S GROUND OF TRUST.

While such, general homage is paid to earnestness,
what wonder if some people should mistake it for reli-
gion ; and if a man should imagine that, because he is
zealous in the activities of benevolence, warmly attached
to certain church organizations, and in some measure
sympathetic with the spiritual forces which they em-
body, he is really a partaker of the un defiled religion of
the Bible? And I must go further than this. The
tolerance — take it to yourselves those who need it — the
tolerance with which believers in Christ — those who are
really members of the Church, and have " the root of
the matter" within them — the tolerance with which
they talk about, and apologize for " the zealous but un-
converted adjuncts of the Church," tends very greatly
to confirm them in their error. Cases throng upon
one's memory and conscience as we think upon the
subject.

There is a man — he has no settled faith at all in the
principles of Christian truth ; he is cast forever upon a
sea of doubt and darkness ; " ever learning, yet never
able to come to the knowledge of the truth." He may
consider without acting, till he dies. But what says the
tolerant spirit of the age ? " He is an earnest thinker,
let him alone ; he has no faith in the Bible ; he has no
faith in anything certain, settled, and indisputable, but
he is an earnest thinker; and, although life may be
frittered away without one holy deed to ennoble it, if
he live long enough, he will grope his way into convic-
tion by and by."

267

There is another man ; he is not all we would wish
him to be ; he is unfrequent and irregular in attendance
upon the ordinances of God's house ; he is not always
quite spiritually-minded; we should like to see him
less grasping in his bargains; but he is an earnest
worker, a zealous partisan, an active committee-man,
and we hope all will be right with him in the end.

There is another man, and more chivalrous in his
sense of honor; he is known to hold opinions that are
dangerous, if not positively fatal, upon some vital sub-
jects of Christian truth. But he is an amiable man ; he
is very kind to the poor; he has projected several
measures of amelioration for their benefit ; the widow
blesses him when she hears his name. He is an earnest
philanthropist; and, thus sheltered in the shadow of
]ais benevolence, his errors pass unchallenged, and have
a wider scope for mischief than before.

I do solemnly believe that there are men who are
confirmed in their infidelity to Christianity by the tri-
bute thus paid to their zeal. It may be that some in-
fatuated self-deceivers pass out of existence with a lie in
their right hand, because earnestness, like charity, has
been made to " cover a multitude of sins." Since there
is this danger, it is instructive to find out what is the
Apostle's opinion of mere earnestness. It may be a good
thing— there can be no doubt of that— when it springs
from prompting faith, and constraining love, and when
the object on behalf of which it exerts its energies is
intrinsically excellent. It is a noble thing ; we cannot

268

do without it ; it is at once the pledge of sincerity and
an augury of success. It may be a good thing, hut it
may he a blasphemy; just the muscle in the arm of a
madman, that nerves his frantic hand to scatter fire-
brands, and arrows, and death ; but do not deceive
yourselves.

Divers gifts may have been imparted to you; you
may have discrimination of the abstruse and the pro-
found; the widow may bless your footsteps, and the
orphan's heart may sing for joy at your approach; the
lustre of extensive benevolence may be shed over your
character; opinions may have rooted themselves so
firmly in your nature that you are ready to suffer loss
in their behalf, and to covet martyrdom in their attesta-
tion, giving your body to be burned. But, with all this
earnestness, indisputably earnest as you are, if you have
not charity, diviner far — if you have not "faith that
works by love and purifies the heart " — earnest, indis-
putably earnest as you are, it profiteth you nothing;
your confidence will fail you in the hour of trial ; its
root is rottenness, and its blossom will go out as dust.-
That is the fourth ground of trust that the Apostle here
disclaims.

Yet again, and finally. The next ground of trust is
ceremonial blamelessness, " Touching the righteousness
which is in the law, blameless." The Apostle's zeal for
the Jewish faith was rendered more influential by the
purity of his life. There are some whose zeal is but a
cloak for licentiousness, and who shamefully violate, in

269

daily practice, the rescripts of the religion for which
they contend. But the Apostle was not one of those im-
pious fanatics; he had been in sincerity and truth a
Jew, so rigid and inflexible in his adhesion to the laws
of Moses that he was esteemed a pattern, and rejoiced
in as a pillar of the truth. Not that before God the
most devout Pharisee had anything whereof to glory,
but that, in the eyes of men, who judge in short-sighted-
ness, and who judge in error, he passed for a reputable
and blameless man. And this, also, the most ordinary,
the most wide-spread ground of false confidence, the
Apostle counted " loss for Christ."

I need not remind you, I am sure, how deep in the
heart of man, resisting every attempt to dislodge it,
self-righteousness lurks and broods ; and how men come
to regard themselves, in the absence of atrocious crime,
and in the presence of much that is humanizing and
kindly, as ripening for the kingdom of heaven. And
it is no marvel — I do not think it one jot of a
marvel — if we consider what the usages of society are,
and the verdicts it passes on the virtues and vices of the
absent.

There is a tribunal out among men that never
suspends its sessions, and that is always estimating
themselves by themselves, and comparing themselves
among themselves, and so is not wise. From acting as
judge in some of these arbitration cases of character, by
acting as an arbiter himself, the man comes to know
the standard of the world's estimation, and how it is

270 the apostle's ground of trust.

that it comes to its decisions ; and, in some reflective
mood, possibly, he tries himself by it, and, looking
down below him, he sees, far beneath him in the scale,
the ontcast and the selfish, the perfidious, the trampler
npon worldly decencies, and the scandalously sinful.
And then he looks into his own case, and he sees his
walk through life, greeted with the welcome of many
salutations, that his name passes unchallenged, his
integrity vouched for among men. Then he looks into
his own heart, and finds it is vibrating to every chord
of sympathy; friends troop around him with proud
fondness ; children " climb his knees, the envied kiss
to share."

It is no marvel, I say, if a man accustomed to such
standards of arbitration, should imagine that the good-
ness which has been so cheerfully acknowledged on
earth, will be as cheerfully acknowledged in heaven,
and that he who has passed muster with the world so
well, will not be sent abashed and crest-fallen from the
judgment-seat of God.

And there is nothing more difficult than to rouse
such a one from his dangerous and fatal slumber.
There are many, who, thus building on the sand, have
no shelter in the hour of the storm. You may thunder
over the man's head all those passages which tell of the
radical and universal depravity of our race. Yes, and
he admires your preaching, and thinks it is wonder-
fully good for the masses, out it has no sort of applica-
tion to him. He does not feel himself to be the vile

THE APOSTLE 8 GROUND OF TRUST. 271

and guilty creature you describe ; he has an anodyne
carried about with him to silence the first misgiving of
the uneasy conscience, and he lies down in drugged and
desperate repose. And there are many, it may be, who
continue in this insidious deception, and are never
aroused except by the voice of the last messenger, or by
the flashing of the penal fires. That is the last ground
of trust which the Apostle disclaims.

And now of the things that we have spoken, what is
the sum ? Just this. You may be early initiated into
the ordinances of the Christian Church ; you may have
come of a long line of spiritually illustrious ancestry,
and be the sons "of parents passed into the skies;"
you may give an intellectual assent to the grand har-
mony of Christian truth ; you may be zealous in certain
activities of benevolence, and in certain matters con-
nected even with the Church of God itself; you may
have passed among your fellows for a reputable and
blameless man, against whom no one would utter a
word of slander, and in whose presence the elders stand
up in reverence, as you pass by ; and \yet, there may
pile upon you — (O God, send the word home ! ) — there
may pile upon you all the accumulation of carnal
advantage and carnal endowment; you may gain all
this world of honor, and lose your own soul. "And
what shall it profit a man if he gain the whole world,
and lose his own soul ?"

I have no time, as I imagined, to dwell upon the com-
pensating power of the excellency of the knowledge of

272

Christ. There is this compensation, however, " What
things were gain to me," says the Apostle, " those I
counted loss for Christ. Yea, doubtless, and I count all
things but loss for the excellency of the knowledge of
Christ Jesus my Lord." This compensation runs
through creation ; it seems to be a radical law both in
the physical and spiritual government of God. You
see it in things around you. A man climbs up to high
place, and calumny and care go barking at his heels.
There is beauty, dazzling all beholders, and consump-
tion, "like a worm i' the bud, preying upon its
damask cheek." There is talent, dazzling and enrap-
turing, and madness waiting to pounce upon the vacated
throne.

Oh, yes, and there is a strange and solemn affinity,
too, in the Bible, between crime and punishment. I
can only indicate just what I mean. The Jews rejected
Christ, perseveringly rejected Christ ; and one of their
pleas, you remember, was, " If thou let this man go,
thou art not Caesar's friend ;" and to conciliate the
Roman power, they rejected Christ. That was their
crime ; what was their punishment ? The Romans did
come, by and by, and "took away their place and
nation." Pharaoh issued his enactment, that all the
male children of Israel should be drowned: that was
the crime ; what was the punishment ? Pharaoh and
his host were drowned in the waters of the Red Sea by
and by. Hezekiah took the ambassadors of Babylon
through the treasure-chambers of silver and gold, osten-

THE APOSTLE'S GROUND OF TRUST. 273

tatiously showing them his wealth : that was the crime ;
what was the punishment? The treasures of silver
and gold went off captive to Babylon by and by.
David, in the lust of his power, took the census of
the people, and numbered them : that was the crime ;
wThat was the punishment ? The pestilence fell upon
the people whom David had numbered, and dried up
the sources of the strength in which he had boasted so
fondly.

And, just to remind you of another case, who are
those who are represented as standing at the barred
gate of heaven, knocking, frantic and disappointed,
outside, and crying in tones of agony that mortal lips
cannot compass now, thank God ! " Lord, Lord, open
to us." Who are they? Not the scandalously sinful,
not those who on earth were alien altogether — outcast
altogether — proscribed altogether from the decencies
and decorum of the sanctuary of God. ]STo ; those who
helped to build the ark, but whose corpses have been
strewed in the waters of the deluge ; those who brought
rafters to the tabernacle, but who, as lepers, were thrust
out of the camp, or as transgressors, were stoned beyond
the gate ; those who, on earth, were almost Christians ;
those who, in the retributions of eternity, are almost
saved ; beholding the Church on earth through the
chink of the open door, watching the whole family as
they are gathered, with the invisible presence and the
felt smile of the Father upon them ; beholding the

family as they are gathered, beatific, and imperishable,

12*

274

in heaven; but the door is shut. Almost Christians!
almost saved ! Oh strange and sad affinity between
crime and punishment ! What is your retribution to
be ? " Every one shall receive according to things he
has done in the body, whether they be good, or whether
they be bad."

Oh ! come to Christ — that is the end of it — come to
Christ. Hallow this occasion by dedicating your-
selves living temples unto the Lord. He will not refuse
to accept you. Mark the zeal with which the Apostle
Paul proclaimed the truth: mark the zeal, the love,
indomitable and unfailing, with which he clung to the
Master — " I determined to know nothing among men
but Christ, and him crucified." Oh rare and matchless
attachment ! fastening upon that which was most in
opprobium and in contumely among men. Never did
the earnest student of philosophy, as he came away
from some Socratic prelection, utter his affirmation, " I
am determined to know nothing among men save
Socrates, and him poisoned;" never did enraptured
youth listen to the persuasive eloquence of Cicero, and
utter his affirmation, " I determined to know nothing
among men save Cicero, and him proscribed." But Paul
takes the very vilest brand of shame, and binds it about
his brow, as a diadem of glory : " 1 determine to know
nothing among men but Christ, and him crucified."
Yes, that is it, " Christ, and him crucified." " God
forbid that I should glory, save in the cross." In the
cross is to be our chiefest glory.

275

Trust that cross for yourselves ; take hold of it ; it is
cousecrated. In all circumstances of your history, in
all exigencies of your mortal lot, take firm hold of the
cross. "When the destroying angel rides forth upon the
cloud, when his sword is whetted for destruction, clasp
the cross ; it shall bend over you a shield and a shade ;
he will relax his frown, and sheathe his sword, and pass
quickly, harmlessly by. When you go to the brink of
the waters, that you are about to cross, hold up the
cross ; and by magic power they shall cleave asunder,
as did ancient Jordan before the ark of the covenant,
and you shall pass over dry-shod, and in peace. When
your feet are toiling up the slope, and you arrive at the
gate of heaven, hold up the cross; the angels shall
know it, and the everlasting doors shall unbar them-
selves, that you may enter in. "When you pass through
the ranks of applauding seraphim, that you may pay
your first homage to the throne, present the cross, and
lower it before the face of the Master, and he, for
whose sake you have borne it, will take it from you,
and replace it with a crown.

XL
THE EFFECTS OF PIETY ON A NATION.

" And he said, 0, let not the Lord be angry, and I will speak yet but
this once : peradventure ten shall be found there. And he said, I will
not destroy it for ten's sake." — Genesis xviii. 32.

Most remarkable and most encouraging is this
instance of prevailing prayer. It might well stimulate
us to the exercise of sublimer faith when we behold a
mortal thus wrestling with Omnipotence, wrestling with
such holy boldness that justice suspends its inflictions,
and cannot seal the sinner's doom. Passing over that,
however, with all the doctrines it involves, there is
another thought couched in the text, to which, at the
present time, I want to direct your attention. The
history of nations must be regarded, by every enlight-
ened mind, as the history of the providence of God. It
is not enough, if we would study history aright, that
we follow in the track of battles, that we listen to the
wail of the vanquished and to the shout of the con-
querors ; it is not enough that we excite in ourselves a
sort of hero worship of the world's foster-gods, the stal-
warth and noble peerage of mankind ; it is not enough
that we trace upon the page of history the subtile and

THE EFFECTS OF PIETY ON A NATION. 277

intricate developments of human character. To study
history aright, we must find God in it, we must always
recognize the ever-present and the ever-acting Divinity,
working all things according to the counsel of his bene-
volent and holy will. This is the prominent aspect in
which history ought to be studied, or grievous dishonor
is done to the Universal Ruler, and intense injury is
inflicted upon the spirits of men. God, himself, you
remember, has impressively announced the guilt and
danger of those who regard not the works of the Lord,
nor the operations of his hands. The history of ancient
Israel, for instance, the chosen people, led by the pillar
of cloud by day, and by the pillar of fire by night,
through the marching of that perilous wilderness, what
was it but the successful development, in a series of
wondrous deliverances, of the ever-active providence of
God ? There were some things in that history which, of
course, were incapable either of transfer or repetition ;
but the history itself included,- and was ordained to set
forth certain prominent principles for the recognition
of all nations ; principles which were intended to assert
the rights of God, and to assert the obligations of his
creatures ; principles which are to be consummated in
their evolution amid the solemnities of the last day. It
was so in the case of Sodom, punished as an example
of God's chosen people. Their transgressions had
become obduracy, their obduracy had blossomed out
into punishment ; but a chance in the Divine govern-
ment yet remained to them ; peradventure there might

278 THE EFFECTS OF PIETY ON A NATION.

have been ten righteous in the city. If there had been
ten righteous in the city, those pious men would have
been the substance, the essence, the strength of the
devoted nation ; for them, on their account, for their
sakes, the utter ruin of the land might have been
averted, and through them, after the Divine displeasure
had passed by, there might have sprung up renewed
strength and recovered glory. "We may fairly, I think,
take this as a general principle, that pious men in all
ages of the world's history, are the true strength of the
nations in which, in God's providence, they are privi-
leged to live ; oftentimes averting calamity, oftentimes
restoring strength and blessing, when, but for them, it
would have lapsed and gone forever. This is the prin-
ciple which I purpose, God helping me, to apply for a
moment to our own times, and to the land in which we
live ; and in order to give the subject a great deal of a
practical character, I will, in the first place, paint the
pious men, and then show the effect which the consis-
tent maintenance of a course of piety may be expected
to insure.

I. In the first place, who are the pious men ? Who
are they whom God, who never judges in short-sighted-
ness, who sees the end from the beginning, and who
cannot possibly be deceived or mistaken in his estimate
of human character, who are they whom God desig-
nates, " the holy seed that shall be the substance
thereof ' — the pious men that are the strength of the
nations in which they live? In order to sustain the

THE EFFECTS OF PIETY ON A NATION. 279

honorable appellation which is thus assigned, men mnst
cultivate habits of thought and of practice that are
appropriate to such a character. I will just mention
two or three particulars.

In the first place, they are pious men who separate
themselves avowedly and at the utmost possible dis-
tance from surrounding wickedness. Men are placed
under the influence of religion, in order that they may
separate from sin, in order that they may be governed
by the habits of righteousness and true holiness. In
times when depravity is especially flagrant, there is a
special obligation upon pious men to bring out their
virtues into braver and more prominent exercise, re-
garding that surrounding depravity as in no wise a
reason for flinching, or for cowardice, or for compro-
mise, but rather for the augmented firmness of their
purity. Now, it cannot for one moment be doubted,
that in the times in which we live iniquity does most
flagrantly abound. There is not a sin which does not
exist, and exists in all rankness and impurity. Because
of swearing the land mourns. God's Sabbaths are
systematically desecrated, his sanctuaries contume-
liously forsaken, his ordinances trampled under foot, his
ministers met with the leer oftentimes due to detected
conspirators, and regarded as banded traitors, who have
conspired against the liberties of the world. The lusts
of the flesh scarcely affect to conceal their fllthiness,
everywhere unveiling their forms, and everywhere
diffusing their pestilence. We do not venture upon

280 THE EFFECTS OF PIETY ON A NATION.

any sort of comparison, we do not venture to compare
the aggregate depravity of this age with the depravity
of any age that has preceded. "We do not affirm the
general fact, that the heart of man is " deceitful and
desperately wicked," and that the depravity we see
around us, the exhibition of the carnal mind, u which is
enmity against God," is most fearfully aggravated by
the abundance of privilege by which the people are
surrounded. Now, it is the duty, I repeat, of those
who would have God's estimate of them as pious men,
that they should regard this depravity as invoking them
to bear the testimony of unsullied and spotless holiness.
Let the exhortations on this matter which are scattered
throughout the pages of the Bible be solemnly pon-
dered. " Be not conformed to this world, but be ye
transformed according to the renewing of your mind,
that ye may prove what is that good and acceptable and
perfect will of God." "Abstain from the appearance of
evil." In times when depravity is especially flagrant?
do not even borrow of the garments of falsehood ; do
not let there be any meretricious semblance of that
which is hateful in the sight of God. Abstain from the
appearance of evil. Come out of it so thoroughly that
the fellowships and intercourse of social life do not
seduce you into a sort of complicity. "Be not par-
takers of other men's sins. Have no fellowship with
the unfruitful works of darkness, but rather reprove."
" Be ye not unequally yoked together with unbelievers,
for what fellowship hath light with darkness, and what

THE EFFECTS OF PIETY ON A NATION. 281

concord hath Christ with Belial, and what part hath he
that believeth with an infidel ?" '* Cleanse yourselves
from all filthiness of flesh and spirit ; perfecting holi-
ness in the fear of God."

Yon will not fail to perceive that the whole of these
passages have one aim and one summons, and that is
holiness; holiness, as spotless in the secrecy of indi-
vidual consciousness as in the jealous watch of men ;
holiness shrined in the heart and influencing benignly
and transforming the entire character ; holiness, that is
something more chivalrous than national honor ; holi-
ness, something that maintains a higher standard of
right than commercial integrity ; holiness, something
that is more noble-minded than the conventional cour-
tesies of life; holiness which comes out in every-day
existence, hallowing each transaction, taking hold of the
money as it passes through the hand in ordinary cur-
rency, and stamping upon it a more noble image and
superscription than Caesar's ; holiness written upon the
bells of the horses and upon the frontlet of the forehead,
an immaculate and spotless lustre exuding, so to speak,
from the man in daily life, so that the world starts back
from him, and tells at a glance that he has been with
Jesus. Now, brethren, it is to this, to the exercise and
maintenance of this unflinching holiness, that you are
called. Here is the first prominent obligation of pious
men. You are to confront every evil with its exact and
diametrical opposite ; and he who in circumstances
like these in which we stand, ventures to hesitate, 01

282 THE EFFECTS OF PIETY ON A NATION.

ventures to parley, brand hirn as a traitor to his coun-
try, a traitor to his religion, and a traitor to his God.

Secondly, if you would be what God regards as pious
men, you must cultivate firm attachment to the doc-
trines of Christian truth. There is, brethren, in our
day, a very widely-diffused defectiveness of religious
profession, a very widely-diffused departure from the
faith that was " once delivered to the saints." This is a
Christian country. Men call it so, I know ; but there
is in daily practice a strange and sad departure from
the precepts of Christianity — ay, on the part of men by
whom the theory of this being a Christian country is
most noisily and boisterously maintained.

Are you strangers to the presence in the midst of us
of the dark and subtile spirit of unbelief; a venal press
and active emissaries poisoning the fresh blood of
youth, disheartening the last hope of age, and which, if
their own account of the circulation of their pernicious
principles is to be relied upon, has already tainted
hundreds of thousands with that infectious venom
whose poison lies not in the destruction of the body ?
True, it is for the most part bland, conciliatory,
plausible, rather than audacious and braggart, as in
former times, veiling its deadly purpose in song or in
story. But the dagger is not the less deadly because
the haft is jewelled, and infidelity is not the less infi-
delity, not the less pernicious, not the less accursed,
because genius has woven its stories to adorn it, and
because fancy has wreathed it into song.

THE EFFECTS OF PIETY ON A NATION. 283

Are you strangers to the avowed denial on the part
of some of the divinity and atonement of our Lord
Jesus Christ % to the man-exalting opinion which relies
for its own salvation upon the piled up fabric of its own
righteousness, or which through the flinty rocks of self-
righteous morality, would tunnel out a passage to the
eternal throne ?

Are you strangers to the workings of the grand
apostasy darkening the sunlight of the Saviour's love,
dislocating the perfection of the Saviour's work, ham-
pering the course of the atonement with the frail
entangled frame-work of human merit, restless in its
endeavors to regain its ascendency, crafty, and vigilant
and formidable as ever ?

Are you strangers to the heresy which has made its
appearance in the midst of a body once deeming itself
the fairest offspring of the Reformation, and which
would exclude thousands from covenanted mercies, be-
cause they own not priestly pretensions, and conform
not to traditional rites ?

Are you strangers in the other quarter of the horizon
and of the sky, to dark and lowering portents that have
come over with rationalistic and German infidelity?
Brethren, there is a duty, solemn and authoritative,
resting upon the pious men that they hold fast that
which was " once delivered to the saints." Let the
exhortations, too, on this matter, be carefully pondered.
"Be no more children tossed to and fro with every
wind of doctrine, by the sleight of man and cunning

2§zj. THE EFFECTS OF PIETY ON A NATION".

craftiness whereby they lie in wait to betray." " Stand
fast" — not loose, not easily shifted, having a firm
foundation — "stand fast in the faith once delivered nnto
the saints." Be " rooted in the faith ;" be " grounded
in the faith ;" " contend earnestly for the faith." Bre-
thren, here is another invocation, and it is solemnly
binding upon you. And while there are some around
us that would rob Christ of his grace, and others that
would rob Christ of his crown, and others, more royal
felons, that would steal both the one and the other, let
it be ours to take our stand firm and unswerving by the
altars of the truth ; let our determination go forth to the
universe, "I determine to know nothing among men,
save Jesus Christ, and him crucified."

And, then, thirdly, if you would be pious men as God
estimates piety, you must cultivate cordial, brotherly
love. In times like these, there is a solemn obligation
resting upon all " who hold the head " to cultivate the
spirit of unity with all "who hold the head." By
unity, we do not mean uniformity. There is none, there
can be none in the free universe of God. You have it
not in nature. You may go out into the waving wood-
land, when death is on the trees, and you may prune
their riotous growth, and mold, and shape, and cut them
into something like a decent, a decorous uniformity ; but
the returning spring, when it comes, will laugh at your
aimless labor.

Wherever there is life, there will be found variety of
engaging forms which attract and fascinate the eye.

THE EFFECTS OF PIETY ON A NATION. 285

We do not mean uniformity, therefore ; the harmony of
voices, or the adjustment of actions, the drowsy repeti-
tion of one belief, or the harmonious intonation of one
liturgy, but we mean " the unity of the spirit in the
bond of peace," which we are to intensely labor to
maintain and procure. Let the exhortations on this
matter also be very solemnly pondered. " A new com-
mandment," so that there are eleven commandments
now; the decalogue has been added to by this new
commandment, which is, indeed, the substance and es-
sence of all the rest. "A new commandment give I
unto you, that ye love one another." "Be kindly
affectioned one to another, in brotherly love, in honor
preferring one another." Nay, the Apostle does not
hesitate to set it down as one of the surest evidences of
Christian discipleship. " We know that we have passed
from death unto life, because we love the brethren."
Compliance with these exhortations is always imperative,
especially imperative in seasons of national danger.
Everything that is ominous, everything that is solemn,
everything that is portentous around us, must be re-
garded as an earnest call to Christians to live together
in love. This love is to be cherished everywhere — to
be cherished toward those who are members of the same
section of the universal Church. Here, of course, there
should be no orphan's heart. Here, all should feel
themselves members of a commonwealth. There should
be a rejoicing with those that do rejoice, and a weeping
with those that weep ; and, as by electric fire, the wants

286 THE EFFECTS OF PTETY ON A. NATION.

and the wishes of the one should be communicated to,
and acknowledged by the whole, that it should not only
be cherished in our own communion, but toward all who
hold " the unity of the spirit in the bond of peace, and
in righteousness of life." Wherever Christ is acknow-
ledged, his grace magnified, his crown vindicated, his
law made honorable — wherever the service of Christ is
the aim, and the glory of Christ is the purpose, there
the Church should know as Christian and should hail as
brethren. This duty is one that has been scandalously
neglected in the times in which we live; and that
neglect has darkened the aspect and augmented the
perils of the times. Brethren, we must all amend if we
would not betray. And when the Church of Christ
shall combine in heart as in spirit one, then shall the
great building of the universe progress. God shall
smile upon the workmen, " the glory of the latter house
shall exceed the glory of the former," and the whole
"building fitly framed together shall grow up into a
holy temple of the Lord."

Then, fourthly, if we would be pious men as God esti-
mates piety, we must be zealous in endeavor for the
spread of the Gospel, and for the conversion of the
world. The errors and the crimes of which we have
spoken, render this essential. "We have but to gather
into our minds the contemplation of guilt so heinous, so
offensive that it rises up ' in the presence of the Holy
One, and calls for vengeance as he is seated upon his
throne; then, we have but to remember the conse-

THE EFFECTS OF PIETY ON A NATION. 287

quences of that guilt, everywhere producing misery,
everywhere drying up the sources of spiritual affluence,
everywhere exposing to the unending perditions of hell.
Now, brethren, nothing — and I would speak as one
member of the army summoning others to the battle-
field— nothing will avail but the combined, and devoted,
and persevering exertions of the members of the Church
below. How else shall we attempt to grapple with the
depravity around us ? Parliamentary enactments, what
can they do ? Threats to affright, or bribes to seduce,
what can they do ? Patronage in all its prestige, and
all its power, all that can be possibly brought out of
State treasury or of State influence, what are they?
Availless utterly without the power and Spirit of God.
~No ; there must be a band of faithful men who are thus
renovated and redeemed going forth in the name of the
Lord. They must sustain the ministry in existing pas-
torates, and spread it wherever it has never been estab-
lished. They must support institutions for the educa-
tion of the entire man, institutions based upon the Word
of God. They must become themselves preachers of
" the truth as it is in Jesus ;" by prayer, by influence,
by example, by effort, they must display all the grace
which has redeemed them; and especially they must
all in earnest, repeated, importunate supplications be-
siege the throne of grace in prayer. There is another
summons, the last I shall give you on this matter to-
night, and you are now to answer it with intense energy,
with intense zeal. Coldness here is irrational. Ardor

288 THE EFFECTS OF PIETY ON A NATION.

here is reason. Indifference here is foolishness. Ear-
nestness, or, if you will, enthusiasm here is the highest
and sublimest wisdom.

If you would be pious men, therefore, as God esti-
mates piety, you are to come out from the world and
to be separated from it ; you are to hold fast the doc-
trines you have received ; you are to cultivate to each
other the tenderest brotherly love ; and you are to be
energetic in heart for the conversion of the world.

II. I come now, secondly and briefly, to notice the
effects which we are warranted in expecting such con-
duct as this to insure. This is the doctrine of the text,
that Sodom would have been spared if the ten righteous
men had been there. Pious men are presented to us,
therefore, as the safety of the nation in which they live.
This is very beautifully presented in several other parts
of Scripture. You have it, for instance, in the pro-
phecy of Isaiah, lxv. 8, 9 : " Thus saith the Lord, As
the new wine is found in the cluster, and one saith,
Destroy it not ; for a blessing is in it ; so will I do for
my servants' sakes, that I may not destroy them all.
And I will bring forth a seed out of Jacob, and out of
Judah an inheritor of my mountains ; and mine elect
shall inherit it, and my servants shall dwell there."
Then, again, in the prophecy of Malachi, iii. 10, 11 :
" Bring ye all the tithes into the storehouse, that there
may be meat in mine house, and prove me now here-
with, saith the Lord of hosts, if I will not open you the
windows of heaven, and pour you out a blessing, that

THE EFFECTS OF PIETY ON A NATION. 289

there shall not be room enough to receive it. And I
will rebuke the devourer for your sakes, and he shall
not destroy the fruits of your ground, neither shall your
vine cast her fruit before the time in the field, saith the
Lord of hosts."

We see here the development of the general principle
for which we contend, that God preserves nations for
the sake of pious men. The annals of the past show
how very frequently he has put to naught statesman-
ship, fleets, and armies, and has rendered honor to truth,
meekness, and righteousness. This I do solemnly be-
lieve to be the case in our own land in this crisis of its
affairs, and I am bold to affirm my conviction, that the
destinies of England and of the British Empire are at
this moment in the hands of its pious men. If they be
faithful to their high trust and to the vocation to which
they are eminently and signally called, nothing can
harm us ; no weapon that is formed against us shall
ever be able to prosper. I think this might be made
out from the history of the past, both as to temporal
and spiritual matters. I appeal to you whether it is
not manifest that the temporal interests of a nation are
bound up in its piety? Let pious men prevail in a
land, let the population become imbued with the spirit
and with the leaven of evangelical godliness, what is
the consequence ? Order is at once preserved. As
their holiness spreads, as their unworldly yet earnest
example manifests itself and begins to be felt, sounder

views prevail. The moral is felt to exert a supremacy

13

290 THE EFFECTS OF PIETY ON A NATION.

over the secular ; the political agitator, the infidel dema-
gogue, the philoosphical theorist, are scouted as physi-
cians of no value ; and men everywhere learn to submit
to the orderly restraints and the well-regulated govern-
ment of law.

Let pious men prevail, and they will keep up the
freedom of a land. I do not mean that crouching
emasculation on the one hand, nor that ribald licen-
tiousness on the other hand, which ha^e both been
dignified by the name by extreme political parties ;
but I mean well-ordered and rational liberty ; liberty
which respects the rights of other people at the same
time that it asserts and vindicates its own ; liberty
which with one hand renders to Caesar the things that
are Csesar's, and with the other hand takes care to
render to God the things that are God's ; liberty which
honors men as men, just because the Divine command
tells it to " honor all men," and because, all the world
over, there is nothing so royal as a man. That liberty
will be preserved wherever pious men are found, and
wherever the example of these pious men begins to
spread itself among people.

And, then, pious men will preserve the prosperity of
a land. There is a false prosperity which must be aban-
doned ; there is a false honor which must be speedily
forsworn ; but that prosperity which is substantial and
abiding will remain under the influences of piety. Art
will minister then not to luxury but to truth ; science
will minister then not to infidelity but to truth ; com

THE EFFECTS OF PIETY ON A NATION. 291

merce will minister then not to selfishness but to be-
nevolence ; and other realms shall render to us their
unbought and unpurchasable homage, and the sons of
our country, in their not unholy pride, may wave their
banner to the wind, with the motto on it :

"He is the freeman whom the truth makes free,
And all are slaves besides."

Yes, brethren, it is Britain's altar and not Britain's
throne, Britain's Bible and not Britain's statute book,
that is the great, and deep, and strong source of her
national prosperity and renown. Do away with this \
suffer that fidelity with which, in some humble measure,
we have borne witness for God, to be relaxed ; let our
Sabbaths be sinned away at the bidding of unholy or
mistaken mobs ; let us enter into adulterous and un-
worthy alliance with the man of sin ; let us be traitors
to the trust with which God has invested us, to take
care of the ark of the Lord, and the crown will lose its
lustre, the peerage its nobility, and the senate its com-
mand ; all the phases of social rank and order will be
disjointed and disorganized ; a lava tide of desolation
will overwhelm all that is consecrated and noble, and
angels may sing the dirge over a once great, but now
hopelessly fallen people : " the glory is departed from
Israel, because the ark of God is taken." Keep fast by
that ark, hold it — hold your attachment to it as the
strongest element of being, and there shall be no bounds
to the sacred magnificence of our nation ; but the fires

292 THE EFFECTS OF PIETY ON A NATION.

of the last day, when they consume all that is perishable
and drossy, may see us with the light of the Divine
presence gleaming harmlessly around our brow, and in
our hand the open law for all the nations of mankind.

Those are temporal benefits. And, then, let there be
pious men in the land, and spiritual benefits will also
be secured. There will, for instance, be the defeat of
erroneous opinions. Truth, when the Spirit inspires it
not, abstract truth, is weak and powerless. Truth, with
the Spirit in it, is mighty, and will prevail. There can
be no fear as to the result, because the world has never
been left, and will never be left without the active
Spirit of God. Falsehood breaks out impetuously, just
like one of those torrents that leap and rattle over the
summit of the mountain after the thunder-storm, over-
whelming in the first outbreak, but dying away into
insignificance and silence by and by ; truth is the little
spring that rises up imperceptibly and gently, and flows
on, unostentatious and noiseless, until at last navies are
wafted on its bosom, and it pours its full volume of
triumphant waters into the rejoicing sea. So it will be
with truth ; wealth cannot bribe it, talent cannot dazzle
it, sophistry cannot overreach it, authority cannot please
it ; they all, like Felix, tremble in its majestic presence.
Let pious men increase, and each of them will become
a centre of holiness ; apostates will be brought back to
the Church, poor backsliders will be reclaimed into new-
found liberty and new created privilege, and there will
be a cry like that on the summit of Carmel after the

THE EFFECTS OF PIETY ON A NATION. 293

controversy was over, and had issued in the discomfi-
ture of Baal, "The Lord, he is God; the Lord, he is
God."

And, then, better than all that, salvation of souls will
be secured. The conversion of a soul is an infinitely
greater triumph than the eradication of a false opinion.
A false opinion may be crushed, and the man that holds
it may be in imminent spiritual peril ; convert the man's
soul, and his opinions will come right by and by. Oh,
if as you go from this place to-night, you were to be-
hold the crowds of tempters and temptresses to evil that
will cross your path as you travel homeward, if you
think of their activity, of their earnestness to proselytize
in the grand diabolical army, and to make sevenfold
more the children of hell than they are themselves, and
if you think of the apathy of the faithful, of the scanti-
ness of effort, of the failure of faith, of the depression
of endeavor, of the laxity of attachment on the part of
believers in Jesus, surely there is enough to make you
abashed and confounded. Brethren, I should like, if
I could, to bring before you one solitary soul, to fasten
your attention upon that soul, to transfix it as with a
lightning glance before you, so that you might trace it
in its downward path, see it as habit crusts it over, and
selfishness rejoices over it, and the foul fiend gloats
upon it in mockery, and disease, prematurely induced,
comes upon it, and death waits for his prey, and hell is
moved from beneath to meet it at its coming, and that
you should follow it down into those dark and dread

294 THE EFFECTS OF PIETY ON A NATION.

abodes, which man's pencil painteth not, and of which
man's imagination, thank God, cannot conceive ! Oh !
draw the curtain over that ; we cannot bear the sight !
But as you think of the real spiritual peril in which not
one, not a family — Oh ! if there were but a family, all
London would be awake for its deliverance — but there
is a world in danger — not one, not a family, not an
island, not a continent, but a world — if I could only
fasten that upon your consciences to-night, each one of
you would surely go away with tearful eye and glad
heart, glad that you were able to do anything for God,
and would not rest without saying, " For Zion's sake I
will not hold my peace, and for Jerusalem's sake, I will
not rest until the righteousness thereof go forth as the
brightness, and the salvation thereof as the lamp that
burnetii."

Just one parting word. If you would do all this, you
must be pious yourselves"; but do not be among the
number of those who busy themselves in the external-
isms of godliness, and are in some measure active in
connection with the Church of God, but are out of
Christ, aliens themselves from the commonwealth of
Israel. If you are not personally pious, you will be
accomplices in drawing down the thunderbolt, and
chargeable to that extent with your country's ruin, and
the ruin of souls. Come to Christ now ; let all your
past iniquity be forgotten and forgiven as you bow
before him in humiliation and in tears; he will not
refuse you ; he will not cast you out. Then enter upon

THE EFFECTS OF PIETY ON A NATION. 295

a life of piety in spite of all that scoffers say. All !
religion is not so mean a thing as infidels represent it to
be ! They curl the lip of scorn at us, and we can bear
that ; they flash the eye of hate at us, and we can bear
that, as long as God looks upon us with complacency,
as long as he has promised to crown us as conquerors in
heaven, for which, by our spiritual conflicts and vic-
tories, we shall have come prepared. Oh, it is no mean
thing. The saint, the righteous man, the pious believer
in Jesus, is a patriot as well as a saint. The worldling
may sneer and scorn, but we have a noble revenge, for
it is pious men that have kept the conflagrating
elements away from this long doomed world up to the
present moment of its history ; and if the ten righteous
had not been in this enormous Sodom, long ere now
would the firebrand of destruction have struck it that it
might be consumed in its deserved ruin. Thank God,
there is hope for the world yet.

When the prophet in depression and in sorrow was
saying, " I, even I, only am left, the prophet of the
Lord," God pointed him to seven thousand that had
never ^bowed the knee to Baal ; and there are faithful
ones in the secret places of the world yet, palm-tree
Christians growing up in unexpected places, amid sandy
soil and with no companionship, who are flourishing in
godly vigor and earnest in persevering prayer. There
is hope for the world yet. Oh, for the increase of these
pious men ! Be you of the number of this unosten-
tatious but valiant host. Do you pant for fame ? You

296 THE EFFECTS OF PIETY ON A NATION.

can find it here. Young men, there are some of you in
the presence of God that have ambition high bounding
in your hearts, who feel the elasticity of youth within
you ; who feel that the flight of your soaring spirit is
not the flight of the flagging or the breathless ; that
there is something still within you that pants for a
distinction other than you have yet attained ; oh come
to Christ, enlist yourselves in his service, be soldiers of
the cross, fight moral battles, and yours shall be the
victory. To you the Church is looking ; your fathers,
worn out with labor, exhausted with the vicissitudes
and the victories of years, are passing rapidly away, and
they are wondering where their successors are. They
have gone from us ; just when we were expecting for
them higher fields and wider triumphs, the fiery chariot
came and they were not, and nothing was left for us but
to cry as we followed the track of the cavalcade, in our
hopelessness, almost in our agony, " My father, my
father, the chariot of Israel and the horsemen thereof."
Oh ! thank God, they have flung their mantles down,
and it is for you to catch them, to robe yourselves to-day
in the garments of the holy departed, and like them, to
do and die.

XII.

THE PKOPHET OF HOEEB— HIS LIEE AND

ITS LESSONS.

" Elijah, the Tishbite, who was of the inhabitants of Gilead." —
1 Kings, xvii. 1.

The mountains of the Bible will well repay the
climber. There is a glorious prospect from their
summits, and moral bracing in the breathing of their
difficult air.

Most of the events in Bible history, which either
embody great principles, illustrate Divine perfections,
or bear impressively upon the destinies of man, have
had the mountains for the pedestals of their achieve-
ment. Beneath the arch of the Covenant-rainbow the
lone ark rested upon Ararat ; Abraham's trial, handing-
down the high faith of the hero-father, and typing the
greater sacrifice of the future time, must be "on one
of the mountains" in the land of Moriah; Aaron,
climbing heavenward, is "unclothed and clothed upon"
amid the solitudes of Hor; and where but on the crest
of Nebo could Moses gaze upon the land and die ? If
there is to be a grand experiment to determine between
rival faiths — to defeat Baal — to exalt Jehovah, what

13* 297

298

spot so fitting as the excellency of Carmel ? It was due
to the great and dread events of the Saviour's history
that they should be enacted where the world's broad
eye could light upon them, hence he is transfigured
" on the high mountain apart," on Olivet he prays, on
Calvary he dies ; and, at the close of all, in the
splendors of eternal allotment, amid adoring angels
and perfected men, we cheerfully " come to Mount
Zion."

Precious as is the Scripture in all phases of its
appearance, the quality which, above all others, invests
it with a richer value, is its exquisite adaptation to
every necessity of man. Professing itself to be his
infallible and constant instructor, it employs all modes
of communicating wisdom. "The Man of our coun-
sel " is always at hand, in every condition and in
every peril. Put we learn more from living exemplar
than from preceptive utterance. The truth, which has
not been realized by some man of like passions with
ourselves, comes cold and distant like a lunar rainbow.
It may furnish us with correct notions and a beautiful
system, just as we can learn proportion from a statue,
but there needs the touch of life to influence and to
transform. Hence, not the least impressive and salu-
tary Pible teaching is by the accurate exhibition of
individual character. A man's life is there sketched
out to us, not that side of it merely which he presents
to the world, which the restraints of society have modi-
fied, which intercourse has subdued into decorousness,

HIS LIFE AND ITS LESSONS. 299

and which shrouds his meaner self in a conventional
hypocrisy; but his inner life, his management of the
trifles which give the sum of character, his ordinary
and household doings, as well as the rarer seasons of
exigency and of trial. The whole man is before us, and
we can see him as he is. Partiality cannot blind us,
nor prejudice distort our view. Nothing is exagge-
rated, nothing is concealed. His defects are there — his
falterings and depressions — his mistrusts and betrayals
— like so many beacons glaring their warning lights
upon our path. His excellencies are there — his stern
integrity and consistent walking, his intrepid wrestling
and heroic endurance — that we may be followers of his
patience and faith, and ultimately share his crown. So
marked and hallowed is this candor, that we do not
wonder at its being alleged as an argument for the
book's divinity. The characters are all human in their
experience, although divine in their portrayal. They
were men, those Bible worthies, world-renowned,
God-smitten, princely men, towering indeed in moral,
as Saul in physical, stature above their fellows,
but still men of like passions with ourselves — to the
same frailties incident — with the same trials battling —
by the same temptations frequently and foully over-
come. Their perfect humanness is, indeed, their strong-
est influence and greatest charm. Of what avail to us
were the biography of an angel, could you chronicle his
joys in the calm round of heaven ? There could be no
sympathy either of condition or experience.

300 THE PROPHET OF HOREB,

But the Bible, assuming the essential identity of the
race, tells of man, and the " one blood " of all nations
leaps up to the thrilling tale. There is the old narra-
tive of lapse and loss ; the tidings, ancient and unde-
caying, of temptation, conflict, mastery, recompense.
In ourselves there have been the quiverings of David's
sorrow, and the stirrings of David's sin. "We, perhaps,
like Elijah, have been by turns confessor and coward —
fervent as Peter, and as faithless too. The heart
answers to the history, and responsive and struggling
humanity owns the sympathy, and derives the bless-
ing.

It is a strange history, this history of the Prophet
Elijah. Throughout the whole of his career we are
attracted almost more by his inspiration than by him-
self. "We are apt to lose sight of the man in the
thought of the Divine energy which wielded him at its
terrible or .gentle will. The unconsciousness of self,
which is the distinctive mark of the true seer, is always
present with him — in his manliest and in his meekest
hours — in his solitary prayer in the loft at Zarephath,
in his solemn sarcasm on the summit of Carmel — when
he flushes the cheek of a dead child, or pales the brow
of a living king. He is surrendered always to the
indwelling God. He always seems to regard himself as
a chosen and a separated man — lifted, by his consecra-
tion, above the love or the fear of his kind — forced,
ever and anon, upon difficult and perilous duty —
a, flying roll, carven with mercy and with judgment —

HIS LIFE AND ITS LESSONS. 301

an echo, rather than an original utterance — " the
voice of one," not "one," but "the voice of one
crying in the wilderness, Prepare ye the way of the
Lord!"

How abruptly he bursts upon the world. We know
nothing of his birth, nothing of his parentage, nothing
of his training. On all these matters the record is pro-
foundly silent. He is presented to us at once, a full-
grown and authoritative man, starting in the path of
Ahab sudden as the lightning, energetic and alarming
as the thunder. "Elijah the Tishbite, who was of the
inhabitants of Gilead." This is all. And it is all we
need. "What reck we of his ancestry ? He is royal in
his deeds. Obscure in his origin, springing probably
from the herdsmen or vine-dressers of Galilee, regarded
by the men of Tishbe as one of themselves — a little
reserved and unsocial withal — his person, perhaps, held
in contempt by the licentious court, and his intrusions
stigmatized as annoying impertinence, he held on his
high way notwithstanding, performed stupendous mira-
cles, received large revelations, and at last, tired of the
world, went up to heaven in a chariot of fire. How
often have we seen the main fact of this story realized
in later times ! Men have looked at the trappings of
the messenger — not at the import of his message.
Their faculty of appreciation has been grievously im-
paired. A prophet has leaped into the day with his
burden of reproof and truth-telling, but he has not been
clad in silken sheen, nor a speaker of smooth things.

302 THE PKOPHET OF HOEEB,

and the world has gone on to its merchandise, while the
broken-hearted seer has retired into the wilderness to
die. A poet has warbled ont his sonl in secret, and
discoursed most exquisite music — but, alas! it has been
played among the tombs. A glorious iconoclast has
come forth among the peoples, " expecting that they
would have understood how that the Lord by him had
sent deliverance," but he has been met by the insulting
rejoinder, "Who made thee a ruler and a judge?"
Thus, in the days of her nonage, because they lacked
high estate and lofty lineage, has the world poured con-
tempt upon some of the choicest of her sons. "A
heretic !" shouted the furious bigotry of the Inquisition.
" And yet it moves," said Galileo — resolute, even in the
moment of enforced abjuration, for the immutable truth.
A scoffing to Genoese bravos, grandees of Portugal, and
the court of England, Columbus spied the log of wood
in its eastward drifting, and opened np America — the
rich El Dorado of many an ancient dream. " An em-
piric !" shouted all the Doctor Sangradoes of the time,
and the old physiologists hated Harvey with an in-
tensely professional hatred, because he affirmed the cir-
culation of the blood. "A Bedfordshire tinker!"
sneered the polite ones, with a whiff of the otto of roses,
as if the very mention of his craft was infragrant;
" what has he to do to preach, and write books, and set
up for a teacher of his fellows?" But glorious John
Bunyan, leaving them in their own Cabul-country,
dwelt in the land of Beulah, climbed up straight to the

HIS LIFE AND ITS LESSONS. 303

presence of the shining ones, and had " all the trumpets
sounding for him on the other side." Sidney Smith
wrote at, and tried to write down "the consecrated
Cobbler," who was to evangelize India; but William
Carey shall live embalmed in memories of converted
thousands long after the witty canon of St. Paul's is for-
gotten or is remembered only as a melancholy example
of genius perverted and a vocation mistaken. "A
Methodist !" -jested the godless witlings of Brazennose ;
" A Jacobin !" reiterated the makers of silver shrines ;
" A ringleader in the Gordon Eiots !" said the Komanists
whose errors he had combated; and the formalistic
churchmanship of that day gathered up its gentilities,
smoothed its ruffled fringes, and with a dowager's state-
liness flounced by " on the other side ;" and reputable
burghers, the " canny bodies " of the time, subsided into
their own respectabilities, and shook their heads at
every mention of the pestilent fellow ; but, calm-browed
and high-souled, John "Wesley went on until a large
portion of his world-parish rejoiced in his light, and
wondered at its luminous and ardent flame. And if it
be lawful to speak of the Master in the same list as his
disciples, who, however excellent, fall immeasurably
short of their Divine Pattern, He was called a ISTazarene,
and there was the scorn of a world couched in the con-
temptuous word.

There are symptoms, however, of returning sanity.
Judicial ermine and archiepiscopal lawn robing the sons
of tradesmen, and the blood of all the Montmorencies —

304 THE PROPHET OF HOREB,

fouled by mesalliance with crime — cooling itself in a
common prison, are remarkable signs of the times.
Men are beginning to feel conscious, not, perhaps, that
they have committed a crime, but that they have been
guilty of what in the diplomacy of Talleyrand was con-
sidered worse — that is, a blunder. "Whether the chivalry
of feudalism be extinct or not, there can be no question
that the villenage of feudalism is gone. Common men
nowadays question the wisdom of nobilities, correct the
errors of cabinets, and do not even listen obsequiously
to catch the whispers of kings. That is a strong and
growing world-feeling which the poet embodies when
he sings:

" Believe us ! noble Vere de Veres,

From yon blue heavens above us bent,
The grand old gardener and his wife

Smile at the claims of long descent.
Howe'er it be, it seems to me

'Tis only noble to be good —
Kind hearts are more than coronets,

And simple faith than Norman blood."

Not that rank has lost its prestige, nor royalty its
honor. Elevated station is a high trust, and furnishes
opportunity for extensive usefulness. The coronet may
be honored or despised at the pleasure of the wearer.
When the rank is larger than the man, when his indi-
viduality is shrouded behind a hundred coats-of-arms,
when he has so much of the blood of his ancestors in
his veins that there is no room for any generous pmses

HIS LIFE AND ITS LESSONS. 305

of his own, why, of course, he must find his own level,
and be content to be admired, like any other piece of
confectionery, by occasional passers-by ; but when the
noble remembers his humanity, and has sympathy for
the erring and encouragement for the sincere — ■

" When, all the trappings freely swept away,
The man's great nature leaps into the day,"

his nobility men are not slow to acknowledge — the cap
and plume bend very gracefully over the sorrow which
they succor, and the jewelled hand is blanched into
a heavenlier whiteness when it beckons a struggling
people into the power and progress of the coming time.
The great question which must be asked of any new
aspirer who would mold the world's activities to his
will, is not, Whence comes he ? but, What is he ?
There may be some semi-fossilized relics of the past
who will continue to insinuate, "Has he a grand-
father?" But the great world of the earnest and of
the workers thunders out, " Has he a soul f Has he
a lofty purpose, a single eye, a heart of power ? Has
he the prophet's sanctity and inspiration, as well as his
boldness and fervor % Never mind the bar sinister on
his escutcheon — has he no bar sinister in his life % Has
he a giant's strength, a hero's courage, a child's simpli-
city, an apostle's love, a martyr's will ? Then is he
sufficiently ennobled." If I, a Gospel charioteer, meet
him as he essays, trembling, to drive into the world,
what must be my salutation ? Art thou of noble blood \

306 THE PROPHET OF HOREB,

Is thy retinue large ? thy banner richly emblazoned ?
thy speech plausible ? thy purpose fair ? ~No — but " Is
thy heart right ?" If it be, give me thy hand.

A prominent feature in the Prophet's character, one
which cannot fail to impress us at every mention of his
name, is his singular devotion to the object of his great
mission. He was sent upon the earth to be the earth's
monitor of God. This was his life-purpose, and faith-
fully he fulfilled it. Rising above the temptations of
sense — ready at the bidding of his Master to crucify
natural affection — sternly repressing the sensibility
which might interfere with duty ; trampling 'upon
worldly interest, and regardless of personal aggrandize-
ment or safety, he held on his course, unswerving and
untired, to the end. God was his object in everything ;
to glorify God, his aim ; to vindicate God, his miracles ;
to speak for God, his message ; to exhibit God, his life.
As the rod of Moses swallowed up the symbols of
Egyptian wizardry, so did this consuming passion in
Elijah absorb each meaner impulse, and each low de-
sire. His decision rarely failed him, his consistency
never. He "halted not between two opinions." He
spurned alike the adulation of a monarch and of a mob.
He neither pandered for the favor of a court, nor made
unworthy compromise with the idolaters of Baal.
Heaven's high remembrancer, he did a true man's
work in a true man's way, with one purpose and a
" united " heart.

Although many parts of this character cannot, on

HIS LIFE AND ITS LESSONS. 307

account of his peculiar vocation, be presented for our
imitation, in his unity of purpose and of effort he fur-
nishes us with a noble example. This oneness of prin-
ciple— freedom from tortuous policy — the direction of
the energies to the attainment of one worthy end —
appears to be what is meant in Scripture by the " single
eye,-' airXovg — not complex— no obliquity in the vision
— looking straight on — taking in one object at one time.
And if we look into the lives of the men who have vin-
dicated their right to be held in the world's memory,
we shall rind that all their actions evolve from one com-
prehensive principle, and converge to one magnificent
achievement. Consider the primitive apostles. There
you have twelve men, greatly diverse in character,
cherishing each his own taste and mode of working,
laboring in different localities, and bringing the one
Gospel to bear upon different classes of mind, and yet
everywhere — in proud Jerusalem, inquisitive Ephesus,
cultured Athens, voluptuous Rome — meeting after many
years in that mightiest result, the establishment of the
kingdom of Christ. Much of this issue is of course due
to the Gospel itself, or rather to the Divine agency
which applied it, but something also to the unity of
the messengers, their sincere purpose, and sustained
endeavor. And so it is in the case of all who have
been the benefactors of mankind. They have had
some master-purpose, which has molded all others into
a beautiful subordination, which they have maintained
amid hazard and suffering, and which, shrined sacredly

308 THE PROPHET OF HOREB,

in the heart, has influenced and fashioned the life. If
a man allow within him the play of different or con-
tradictory purposes, he may, in a lifetime, pile up a
head of gold, a breast of silver, thighs of brass, and
feet of clay, but it is but a great image after all. It
crumbles at the first touch of the smiting stone, and,
like the chaff of the summer threshing-floor, its frag-
ments are helpless on the wind. If, on the other hand,
a man's doings grow out of one and the same spirit,
and that spirit be consecrated to holy endeavor, they
will interpenetrate and combine into beneficent achieve-
ment, and stand out a life-giving and harmonious whole.
This oneness of design for which we contend, is distinct-
ive of the highest developments of the whole family of
genius. A book may run through many editions, and
fascinate many reviewers, but it must be informed by
one spirit, new correspondences must be revealed to the
sesthetic eye, and it must appear "in the serene com-
pleteness of artistic unity," ere it can settle down to be
a household word in the family, or a hidden treasure in
the heart. In whatever department " the beauty-mak-
ing Power" has wrought — in the bodiless thought, or
in the breathing marble ; in the chef-d'ceuvres of the
artist, or in the conceptions of the architect ; whether
Praxiteles chisels, Raffaelle paints, Shakspeare deline-
ates, or Milton sings — there is the same singleness of
the animating spirit. Hamlet, Paradise Lost, and Fes-
tus ; the Greek Slave, and the Madonna ; the Coliseum
and Westminster Abbey ; are they not, each in its kind,

HIS LIFE AND ITS LESSONS. 309

creations to which nothing can be added with advan-
tage, and from which, without damage, nothing can be
taken away ?

And of that other Book — our highest literature, as
well as our unerring law — the glorious, world-subduing
Bible, do we not feel the same ? In its case the
experiment has been tried. The Apociyphal has been
bound up with the Inspired, like "wood, hay, and
stubble," loading the rich fret-work of a stately pile, or
the clumsy work of an apprentice superadded to the
finish of a master. Doubtless instruction may be
gathered from it, but how it " pales its ineffectual fires"
before the splendor of the "Word ! It is unfortunate for
it that they have been brought into contact. "We
might be grateful for the gas-lamp at eventide, but it
were grievous folly to light it up at noon. As in
science, literature, art, so it is in character. We can
wrap up in a word the object of " the world's foster
gods ;" to bear witness for Jehovah — to extend Christ-
ianity— to disinter the truth for Europe — to " spread
Scriptural holiness" — to humanize prison discipline — to
abolish slavery — these are soon told ; but if you unfold
each word, you have the life-labor of Elijah, Paul,
Luther, Wesley, Howard, Wilberforce — the inner man
of each heart laid open, with its hopes, joys, fears,
anxieties, ventures, faiths, conflicts, triumphs, in the
long round of weary and of wasting years.

Look at this oneness of principle embodied in action.
See it in Martin Luther. He has a purpose, that miner'' s

310 THE PROPHET OF HOREB,

son. That purpose is the acquisition of knowledge.
He exhausts speedily the resources of Mansfield ; reads
hard, and devours the lectures at Madgeburg ; chants
in the hours of recreation, like the old Minnesingers, in
streets, for bread ; sits at the feet of Trebonius in the
college at Eisenach ; enters as a student at Erfurt, and
at the age of eighteen, has outstripped his fellows, has a
University for his admirer, and professors predicting for
him the most successful career of the age. He has a
purpose, that Scholar of Erfurt. That purpose is the
discovery of truth, for in the old library he has stumbled
on a Bible. Follow him out into the new world which
that volume has flashed upon his soul. "With Pilate's
question on his lip and in his heart, he foregoes his bril-
liant prospect — parts without a sigh with academical
distinction — takes monastic vows in an Augustine con-
vent— becomes the watchman and sweeper of the
place — goes a mendicant friar, with the convent's
begging-bag, to the houses where he had been wel-
comed as a friend, or had starred it as a lion — wastes
himself with, voluntary penances well-nigh to the
grave — studies the Fathers intensely, but- can get no
light — pores over the Book itself, with scales upon his
eyes — catches a dim streak of auroral brightness, but
leaves Erfurt before the glorious dawn — until at last, in
his cell at Wittemberg, on his bed of languishing at
Bologna, and finally at Borne — Pilate's question an-
swered upon Pilate's stairs — there comes the thrice-
repeated Gospel-whisper, " The just shall live by faith,"

HIS LIFE AND ITS LESSONS. 3H

and the glad Evangel scatters the darkening and shreds
off the paralysis, and he rises into moral freedom, a new
man unto the Lord ! He has a purpose, that Augustine
monk. That purpose is the [Reformation ! Waiting
with the modesty of the hero, until he is forced into the
strife, with the courage of the hero he steps into the
breach to do battle for the living truth. Tardy in
forming his resolve, he is brave in his adhesion to it.
Not like Erasmus, " holding the truth in unrighteous-
ness," with a clear head and a craven heart — not like
Carlstadt, hanging upon a grand principle the tatters
of a petty vanity— not like Seckingen, a wielder of car-
nal weapons, clad in glowing mail, instead of the armor
of righteousness and the weapon of ail prayer — but
bold, disinterested, spiritual — he stands before us God-
prepared and God-upheld' — that valiant Luther, who, in
his opening prime, amazed the Cardinal de Yio by his
fearless avowal, " Had I five heads I would lose them
all rather than retract the testimony which I have
borne for Christ " — that incorruptible Luther, whom the
Pope's nuncio tried in vain to bribe, and of whom he
wrote in his spleen : " This German beast has no regard
for gold " — that inflexible Luther, who, when told that
the fate of John Huss would probably await him at
Worms, said calmly, " Were they to make a fire that
would extend from Worms to Wittemberg, and reach
even to the sky, I would walk across it in the name of
the Lord" — that triumphant Luther, who, in his
honored age, sat in the cool shadow and 'mid the

312 THE PROPHET OF HOREB,

purple vintage of the tree himself had planted, and
after a stormful sojourn, scaped the toils of the hunters,
and died peacefully in his bed — that undying Luther,
" who, being dead, yet speaketh," the mention of whose
name rouses the ardor of the manly, and quickens the
pulses of the free ; whose spirit yet stirs, like a clarion,
the great heart of Christendom ; and whose very bones
have so marvellous a virtue, that, like the bones of
Elisha, if on them were stretched the corpse of an effete
Protestantism, they would surely wake it into life to the
honor and glory of God !

But we must not forget, as we are in some danger of
doing, that we must draw our illustrations mainly from
the life of Elijah. ¥e have before affirmed that unity
of purpose and consistency of effort were leading
features in his character, but look at them in action,
especially as displayed in the great scene of Carmel.
Call up that scene before you, with all its adjuncts of
grandeur and of power. The summit of the fertile
hill, meet theatre for so glorious a tragedy ; the idola-
trous priests, with all the pompous ensigns of their idol-
worship, confronted by that solitary but princely man —
the gathered and anxious multitude — the deep silence
following on the prophet's question — the appeal to fire
— the protracted invocation of Baal — the useless incan-
tations and barbaric rites, " from morning even until
noon, and from noon until the time of the offering of
the evening sacrifice ;" the solemn sarcasm of Elijah ;
the building of the altar of unfurnished stone — the

HIS LIFE AND ITS LESSONS. 313

drenching and surrounding it with water, strangest of
all strange preparations for a burnt-sacrifice — the sky
reddening as if it blushed at the folly of the priests of
Baal — the sun sloping slowly to the west, and falling
aslant upon the pale faces of that unweary multitude,
rapt in fixed attention, patient, stern, unhungering — the
high accents of holy prayer — the solemn pause, agon-
izing from its depth of feeling — the falling flame, " a
fire of intelligence and power" — the consuming of all
the materials of the testimony — and that mighty
triumph-shout, rolling along the plain of Sharon,
waking the echoes of the responsive mountains, and
thrilling over the sea with an eloquence grander than
its own ; there it stands — that scene in its entireness —
most wonderful even in a history of wonders, and one
of the most magnificent and conclusive forthputtings of
Jehovah's power! But abstract your contemplations
now from the miraculous interposition, and look at the
chief actor in the scene. How calm he is ! How still
amid that swaying multitude ! They, agitated by a
thousand emotions — he, self-reliant, patient, brave !
Priests mad with malice — people wild in wonder — an
ominous frown darkening the royal brow — Elijah alone
unmoved ! Whence this self-possession ? What occult
principle so mightily sustains him? There was, of
course, unfaltering dependence upon God. But there
was also the consciousness of integrity of purpose, and
of a heart " at one." There was no recreancy in the

soul. He had not been the passive observer, nor the

14

314 THE PROPHET -OF HOREB,

guilty conniver at sin. He had not trodden softly, lest
he should shock Ahab's prejudices or disturb his repose.
He had not shared in the carnivals of Jezebel's table.
He had not preserved a dastardly neutrality. Every
one knew him to be " on the Lord's side." His heart
was always in tune ; like Memnon's harp, it trembled
into melody at every breath of heaven.

With these examples before us, it behooves lis to ask
ourselves, Have we a purpose f Elijah and Luther may
be marks too high for us. Do not let us affect knight-
errantry, couch the lance at wind-mills to prove our
valor, or mistake sauciness for sanctity, and impudence
for inspiration. It is not probable that our mission is
to beard unfaithful royalties, or to pull down the
edifices which are festooned with the associations of
centuries. But in the sphere of each of us — in the
marts of commerce, in the looms of labor — while the
sun is climbing hotly up the sky, and the race of
human pursuits and competitions is going vigorously
on, there is work enough for the sincere and honest
workman. The sphere for personal improvement was
never so large. To brace the body for service or for
suffering — to bring it into subjection -to the control of
the master-faculty — to acquaint the mind with all
wisdom — to hoard, with miser's care, every fragment
of beneficial knowledge — to twine the beautiful around
the true, as the acanthus leaf around the Corinthian
pillar — to quell the sinward propensities of the nature
•~— to evolve the soul into the completeness of its moral

HIS LIFE AND ITS LESSONS. 315

manhood — to have the passions in harness, and firmly
curb them — " to bear the image of the heavenly " — to
strive after " that mind which was also in Christ Jesus"
— here is a field of labor wide enough for the most
resolute will. The sphere of beneficent activity was
never so large. To infuse the leaven of purity into the
disordered masses — to thaw the death-frost from the
heart of the misanthrope — to make the treacherous one
faithful to duty — to open the world's dim eye to the
majesty of conscience — to gather and instruct the or-
phans bereft of a father's blessing and of a mother's
prayer — to care for the outcast and abandoned, who
have drunk in iniquity with their mother's milk, whom
the priest and the Levite have alike passed by, and who
have been forced in the hotbed of poverty into prema-
ture luxuriance of evil ; here is labor, which may
employ a man's whole lifetime, and his whole soul.
Young men, are you working ? Have you gone forth
into the harvest-field bearing precious seed ? Alas !
perhaps some of you are yet resting in the conven-
tional, that painted charnel which has tombed many a
manhood ; grasping eagerly your own social advan-
tages ; gyved by a dishonest expediency ; not doing a
good lest it should be evil spoken of, nor daring a faith
lest the scoffer should frown. With two worlds to
work in — the world of the heart, with its many-phased
and wondrous life, and the world around, with its
problems waiting for solution, and its contradictions
panting for the harmonizer — you are, perhaps, en-

316 THE PROPHET OF HOREB,

chained in the island of Calypso, thralled by its
blandishments, emasculated by its enervating air. O,
for some strong-armed Mentor to thrust you over the
cliff, and strain with you among the buffeting waves !
Brothers, let us be men. Let us bravely fling off our
chains. If we can not be commanding, let us at least
be sincere. Let our earnestness amend our incapacity.
Let ours not be a life of puerile inanities or obsequious
Mammon-worship. Let us look through the pliant
neutral in his hollowness, and the churlish miser in his
greed, and let us go and do otherwise than they. Let
us not be ingrates while Heaven is generous, idlers
while earth is active, slumberers while eternity is near.
Let us have a purpose, and let that purpose be one.
Without a central principle all will be in disorder.
Ithaca is misgoverned, Penelope beset by clamorous
suitors, Telemachus in peril, all because Ulysses is
away. Let the Ulysses of the soul return, let the
governing principle exert its legitimate authority, and
the happy suitors of appetite and sense shall be slain —
the heart, married to the truth, shall retain its fidelity
to its bridalvow, and the eldest-born, a purpose of
valor and of wisdom, shall carve its highway to renown,
and achieve its deeds of glory. Aim at this singleness
of eye. Abhor a life of self-contradictions, as a
grievous wrong done to an immortal nature. And
thus, having a purpose — one purpose — a worthy pur-
pose—you cannot toil in vain. Work in the inner— it
will tell upon the outer world. Purify your own heart

HIS LIFE AND ITS LESSONS. 317

— you will have a reformative power on the neighbor-
hood. Shrine the truth within — it will attract many
pilgrims. Kindle the vestal iire — it will ray out a life-
giving light. Have the mastery over your own spirit —
you will go far to be a world-subduer. Oh, if there be
one here whowould up lift himself or advance his
fellows, who would do his brother " a good which shall
live after him," or enroll himself among the bene-
factors of mankind, to him we say, Cast out of thyself
all that loveth and maketh a lie — hate every false way
— set a worthy object before thee — work at it with both
hands, an open heart, an earnest will, and a firm faith,
and then go on —

"Onward, while a wrong remains

To be conquered by the right,
While Oppression lifts a finger

To affront us by his might.
While an error clouds the reason,

Or a sorrow gnaws the heart,
Or a slave awaits his freedom,

Action is the wise man's part!"

The Prophet's consistency of purpose, his calmness in
the time of danger, and his marvellous success, require,
however, some further explanation, and that explanation
is to be found in the fact that he was a man of prayer.
Prayer was the forerunner of his every action — the
grace of supplication prepared him for his mightiest
deeds. Whatever was his object — to seal or to open the
fountains of heaven — to evoke the obedient fire on Car-

318 THE PROPHET. OF HOEEB,

mel — to shed joy over the bereft household of the
Sareptan widow — to bring down " forks of flame " upon
the captains and their fifties — there was always the
solemn and the earnest prayer. Tishbe, Zarephath,
Carmel, Jezreel, Gilgal — he had his oratory in them all.
And herein lay the secret of his strength. The monn
tain-closet emboldened him for the mountain-altar.
While the winged birds were providing for his body, the
winged prayers were strengthening his soul. In answer
to his entreaties in secret, the whole armor of God was
at his service, and he buckled the breastplate, and
braced the girdle, and strapped on the sandals, and
stepped forth from his closet a hero, and men knew that
he had been in Jehovah's presence-chamber from the
glory which lingered on his brow.

!Nbw, as man is to be contemplated, not only in re-
ference to time, but in reference to eternity, this habit
of prayer is necessary to the completeness of his charac-
ter. If the present were his all — if his life were to shape
itself only amid surrounding complexities of good or
evil — if he had merely to impress his individuality upon
his age, and then die and be forgotten, or in the veiled
future have no living and conscious concern ; then, in-
deed, self-confidence might be his highest virtue, self-
will his absolute law, self-aggrandizement his supremest
end. But as, beyond the present, there lies, in all its
solemness, eternity ; as the world to which we are all
hastening is a world of result, discovery, fruition, recom-
pense ; as an impartial register chronicles our lives, that

HIS LIFE AND ITS LESSONS. 3{9

a righteous retribution may follow, our dependence
upon God must be felt and recognized, and there must
be some medium through which to receive the com-
munications of his will. This medium is furnished to
us in prayer. It has been ordained by himself as a
condition of strength and blessing, and all who are under
his authority are under binding obligations to pray.

Young men, you have been exhorted to aspire. Self-
reliance has been commended to you as a grand element
of character. We would echo these counsels. They
are counsels of wisdom. But to be safe and to be per-
fect, you must connect with them the spirit of prayer.
Emulation, unchastened by any higher principle, is to
our perverted nature very often a danger and an evil.
The love of distinction, not of truth and right, becomes
the master-passion of the soul, and instead of high-reach-
ing labor after good, there comes Yanity with its paro-
dies of excellence, or mad Ambition shrinking from no
enormity in its cupidity or lust of power. Self-reliance,
in a heart unsanctified, often gives place to Self-confi-
dence, its base-born brother. Under its unfriendly rule
there rise up in the soul over-weening estimate of self,
inveteracy of evil habit, impatience of restraint or con-
trol, the disposition to lord it over others, and that
dogged and repulsive obstinacy, which, like the dead
fly in the ointment, throws an ill savor over the entire
character of the man. These are smaller manifestations,
but, in congenial soil, and with commensurate oppor-
tunities, it blossoms out into some of the worst forms of

320 THE PROPHET OF HOREB,

humanity — the ruffian, who is the terror of his neighbor-
hood ; the tyrant, who has an appetite for blood ; the
atheist, who denies his God. Now, the habit of prayer
will afford to these principles the salutary check which
they need. It will sanctify emulation, and make it a
virtue to aspire. It will curb the excesses of ambition,
and keep down the vauntings of unholy pride. The
man will aim at the highest, but in the spirit of the
lowest, and prompted by the thought of immortality —
not the loose immortality of the poet's dream, but the
substantial immortality of the Christian's hope — he will
travel on to his reward. In like manner will the habit
of prayer chasten and consecrate the principle of self-
reliance. It will preserve, intact, all its enterprise and
bravery. It will bate not a jot of its original strength
and freedom, but, when it would wanton out into inso-
lence and pride, it will restrain it by the consciousness
of a higher power ; it will shed over the man the meek-
ness and gentleness of Christ, and it will show, existing
in the same nature and in completest harmony, indomit-
able courage in the arena of the world, and loyal sub-
mission to the authority of Heaven. Many noble
examples have attested how this inner life of heaven —
combining the heroic and the gentle, softening without
enfeebling the character, preparing either for action or
endurance — has shed its power over the outer life of
earth. How commanding is the attitude of Paul from
the time of his conversion to the truth ! What courage
he has, encountering the Epicurean and Stoical philoso-

HIS LIFE AND ITS LESSONS. 321

phers, revealing the unknown God to the multitude at
Athens, making the false-hearted Felix tremble, and
almost constraining the pliable Agrippa to decision;
standing, silver-haired and solitary, before the bar of
Nero ; dying a martyr for the loved name of Jesus ! —
that heroism was born in the solitude where he im-
portunately " besought the Lord." " In Luther's closet,"
says D'Aubigne, " we have the secret of the Reforma-
tion." The Puritans — those " men of whom the world
was not worthy" — to whom we owe immense, but
scantily-acknowledged, obligations — how kept they their
fidelity ? Tracked through wood and wild, the baying
of the fierce sleuth-hound breaking often upon their
sequestered worship, their prayer was the talisman
which " stopped the mouths of lions, and quenched the
violence of fire." You cannot have forgotten how
exquisitely the efficacy of prayer is presented in our
second book of Proverbs :

" Behold that fragile form of delicate, transparent beauty,
Whose light-blue eye and hectic cheek are lit by the bale-fires of

decline ;
Hath not thy heart said of her, Alas ! poor child of weakness !
Thou hast erred ; Goliath of Gath stood not in half her strength :
For the serried ranks of evil are routed by the lightning of her eye ;
Seraphim rally at her side, and the captain of that host is God,
For that weak, fluttering heart is strong in faith assured —
Dependence is her might, and behold — she prayeth." *

Desolate, indeed, is the spirit, like the hills of Gilboa,

* Tupper's " Proverbial Philosophy," of Prayer, p. 109.
14*

322

reft of the precious things of heaven, if it never prays.
Do you pray? Is the fire burning upon that secret
altar ? Do you go to the closet as a duty ? linger in it
as a privilege ? What is that you say ? There is a
scoffer in the same place of business with you, and he
tells you it is cowardly to bow the knee, and he jeers
you about being kept in leading-strings, and urges you
to avow your manliness, and as he is your room-mate,
you have been ashamed to pray before him ; and,
moreover, he seems so cheerful, and resolute, and brave,
that his words have made some impression ? What !
he brave ? He who gave up the journey the other day
because he lucklessly discovered it was Friday; he who
lost his self-possession at the party because "the salt
was spilt — to him it fell ;" he who, whenever friends
solicit and the tempter plies, is afraid to say no; he
who dares not for his life look into his own heart, for he
fancies it a haunted house, with goblins perched on
every landing to pale the cheek and blench the
courage ; he a brave man ? Oh ! to your knees, young
man ; to your knees, that the cowardice may be for-
given and forgotten. There is no bravery in blas-
phemy, there is no dastardliness in godly fear. It is
prayer which strengthens the weak, and makes the
strong man stronger. Happy are you, if it is your
habit and your privilege. You can offer it anywhere.
In the crowded mart or busy street ; flying along the
gleaming line ; sailing upon the wide waters ; out in the
broad world ; in the strife of sentiment and passion ; in

HIS LIFE AND ITS LESSONS. 323

the whirlwind of battle ; at the festival and at the
funeral ; if the frost braces the spirit or the fog
depresses it ; if the clouds are heavy on the earth, or
the sunshine fills it with laughter ; when the dew is
damp upon the grass, or when the lightning flashes in
the sky; in the matins of sunrise or the vespers of
nightfall ; let but the occasion demand it, let the need
be felt, let the soul be imperilled, let the enemy threaten,
happy are you, for you can pray.

"We learn from the prophet's history that God's dis-
cipline for usefulness is frequently a discipline of
trouble. His enforced banishment to the brook Cherith ;
his struggles in that solitude, with the unbelief which
would fear for the daily sustenance, and with the sel-
fishness which would fret and pine for the activities of
life ; Ahab's bloodthirsty and eager search for him, of
which he would not fail to hear ; Jezebel's subsequent
and bitterer persecution ; the apparent failure of his
endeavors for the reformation of Israel ; the forty days'
fasting in the wilderness of Horeb — all these were
parts of one grand disciplinary process, by which he
was made ready for the Lord, fitted for the triumph on
Carmel, for the still voice on the mountain, and for the
ultimate occupancy of the chariot of fire. It is a bene-
ficent arrangement of Providence, that " the divinity
which shapes our ends " weaves our sorrows into ele-
ments of character, and that all the disappointments and
conflicts to which the living are subject — the afflictions,
physical and mental, personal and relative, which are

324 THE PROPHET OF HOREB.

the common lot — may, rightly used, become means of
improvement, and create in us sinews of strength.
Trouble is a marvellous mortifier of pride, and an
effectual restrainer of self-will. Difficulties string up
the energies to loftier effort, and intensity is gained
from repression. By sorrow the temper is mellowed,
and the feeling is refined. When suffering has broken
up the soil, and made the furrows soft, there can be
implanted the hardy virtues which out-brave the storm.
In short, trial is God's glorious alchemistry, by which
the dross is left in the crucible, the baser metals are
transmuted, and the character is riched with the gold.
It would be easy to multiply examples of the singular
efficacy of trouble as a course of discipline. Look at
the history of God's chosen people. A king arose in
Egypt " which knew not Joseph," and his harsh
tyranny drove the Hebrews from their land of Goshen,
and made them the serfs of an oppressive bondage.
The iron entered into their souls. For years they
remained in slavery, until in his own good time God
arose to their help, and brought them out " with a high
hand and with a stretched-out arm." We do not
mean, of all things, to make apologies for Pharaoh and
his task-masters, but we do mean to say that that bond-
age was, in many of its results, a blessing, and that the
Israelite, building the treasure-cities, and, perhaps, the
Pyramids, was a very different and a very superior
being to the Israelite, inexperienced and ease-loving,
who fed his flocks in Goshen. God overruled that cap-

HIS LIFE AND ITS LESSONS. 325

tivity, and made it the teacher of many important les-
sons. They had been hitherto a host of families ; they
were to be exalted into a nation. There was to be a
transition effected from the simplicity of the patriarchal
government and clanship to the superb theocracy of the
Levitical economy. Egypt was the school in which
they were to be trained for Canaan, and in Egypt they
were taught, although reluctant and indocile learners,
the forms of -civil government, the theory of subordina-
tion and order, and the arts and habits of civilized life.
Hence, when God gave his laws on Sinai, those laws fell
upon the ears of a prepared people ; even in the desert
they could fabricate the trappings of the temple service,
and engrave the mystic characters upon the " gems*
oracular" which flashed upon the breastplate of the
High Priest of God. The long exile in the wilderness
of Midian was the chastening by which Moses was
instructed, and the impetuosity of his temper mellowed
and subdued, so that he who, in his youthful hatred of
oppression, slew the Egyptian, became in his age the
meekest man, the much-enduring and patient lawgiver.
A very notable instance of the influence of difficulty and
failure in rousing the energies and carrying them on to
success, has been furnished in our own times. Of
course we refer to this case in this one aspect only,
altogether excluding any expression as to the merit or
demerit of the man. There will probably be two
opinions about him, and those widely differing, in this
assembly. We are not presenting him as an example,

326 THE PUOPHET OF HOKEB,

but as an illustration — save in the matter of steady and
persevering purpose — and in this, if lie be even an oppo-
nent, Fas est ab hoste doceri.

In the year 1837, a young member, oriental alike in
his lineage and in his fancy, entered Parliament, chi-
valrously panting for distinction in that intellectual
arena. He was already known as a successful three-
volnmer, and his party were ready to hail him as a
promising auxiliary. Under these auspices he rose to
make his maiden speech. But he had made a grand
mistake. He had forgotten that the figures of St.
Stephen's are generally arithmetical, and that super-
fluity of words, except in certain cases, is regarded as
superfluity of naughtiness. He set out with the inten-
tion to dazzle, but country gentlemen object to be
dazzled, save on certain conditions. They must be
allowed to prepare themselves for the shock, they must
have due notice beforehand, and the operation must be
performed by an established parliamentary favorite.
In this case all these conditions were wanting. The
speaker was a parvenu. He took them by surprise,
and he pelted them with tropes like hail. Hence he
had not gone far before there were signs of impatience ;
by and by the ominous cry of " Question," then came
some parliamentary extravagance, met by derisive
cheers ; cachinnatory symptoms began to develop them-
selves, until, at last, in the midst of an imposing sen-
tence, in which he had carried his audience to the
Yatican, and invested Lord John Russell with the

HIS LIFE AND ITS LESSONS. 327

temporary custody of the keys of St. Peter, the mirth
grew fast and furious ; somnolent squires woke up and
joined in sympathy, and the house resounded with
irrepressible peals of laughter. Mortified and indig-
nant, the orator sat down, closing with these memorable
words : " I sit down now, but the time will come when
you will hear me !" In the mortification of that night,
we doubt not, was born a resolute working for the
fulfillment of those words. It was an arduous struggle.
There were titled claimants for renown among his com-
petitors, and he had to break down the exclusivism.
There was a suspicion of political adventuring at work,
and broadly circulated, and he had this to overcome.
Above all, he had to live down the remembrance of his
failure. But there was the consciousness of power, and
the fall which would have crushed the coward made
the brave man braver. "Warily walking, and steadily
toiling, through the chance of years, seizing the oppor-
tunity as it came, and always biding his time, he
climbed upward to the distant summit, prejudice
melted like snow beneath his feet, and in 1852, fifteen
short years after his apparent annihilation, he was in
her Majesty's Privy Council, styling himself Eight
Honorable, Chancellor of the Exchequer, and leader of
the British House of Commons.

Sirs, are there difficulties in your path, hindering
your pursuit of knowledge, restraining your benevolent
endeavor, making your spiritual life a contest and a
toil? Be thankful for them. They will test your

328 THE PROPHET OF HOREB,

capabilities of resistance. You will be impelled to
persevere from the very energy of the opposition. If
there be any might in your soul, like the avalanche of
snow, it will require additional momentum from the
obstacles which threaten to impede it. Many a man
has thus robed himself in the spoils of a vanquished
difficulty, and his conquests have accumulated at every
onward and upward step, until he has rested from his
labor — the successful athlete who has thrown the world.
aAn unfortunate illustration," you are ready to say,
" for all cannot win the Olympic crown, nor wear the
Isthmian laurel. "What of him who fails ? How is he
recompensed? What does he gain?" What? Why,
Strength for Life. His training has insured him that.
He will never forget the gymnasium and its lessons.
He will always be a stalwart man, a man of muscle
and of sinew. The real merit is not in the success,
but in the endeavor, and, win or lose, he will be
honored and crowned.

It may be that the sphere of some of you is that of
endurance rather than of enterprise. You are not
called to aggress, but to resist. The power to work has
reached its limit for a while ; the power to wait must
be exerted. There are periods in our history when
Providence shuts us up to the exercise of faith, when
patience and fortitude are more valuable than valor and
courage, and when any "further struggle would but
defeat our prospects and embarrass our aims." To
resist the powerful temptation ; to overcome the beset-

HIS LIFE AND ITS LESSONS. 329

ting sin ; to restrain the sudden impulse of anger ; to
keep sentinel over the door of the lips, and turn back
the biting sarcasm, and the word unkind ; to be patient
under unmerited censure ; amid opposing friends, and a
scoffing world, to keep the faith high and the purpose
firm ; to watch through murky night and howling storm
for the coming day ; in these cases, to be still is to be
brave ; what Burke has called a " masterly inactivity "
is our highest prowess, and quietude is the part of hero-
ism. There is a young man in business, battling with
some strong temptation, by which he is vigorously
assailed; he is solicited to engage in some unlawful
undertaking, with the prospect of immediate and lucra-
tive returns. Custom pleads prescription : " It is done
every day." Partiality suggests that so small a devia-
tion will never be regarded — " Is it not a little one ?"
Interest reminds him that by his refusal his " craft will
be in danger." Compromise is sure that " when he
bows himself in the house of Rimmon, the Lord will
pardon his servant in this thing." All these fearful
voices are urging his compliance. But the Abdiel-
conscience triumphs — help is invoked where it can
never be invoked in vain, and he spurns the temptation
away. Is he not a hero % Earth may despise such a
victory, but he can afford that scorning when, on
account of him, "there is joy in heaven." Oh, there
are, day by day, vanishing from the world's presence,
those of whom she wotteth not; whose heritage has
been a heritage of suffering ; who, in the squalors of

330 THE PROPHET OF HOREB,

poverty, have gleaned a hallowed chastening; from
whom the fires of sickness have scaled their earthliness
away, and they have grown up into such transcendent
and archangel beauty, that Death, God's eagle, sweeps
them into heaven. Murmur not, then, if, in the
inscrutable allotments of Providence, you are called to
suffer, rather than to do. There is a time to labor, and
there is a time to refrain. The completeness of the
Christian character consists in energetic working, when
working is practicable, and in submissive waiting, when
waiting is necessary. You believe that beyond the
waste of waters there is a rich land to be discovered,
and, like Columbus, you have manned the vessel and
hopefully set sail. But your difficulties are increasing.
The men's hearts are failing them for fear; they wept
when you got out of sight of land; the distance is
greater than you thought : there is a weary and unva-
ried prospect of only sky and sea ; you have not spoken
a ship nor exchanged a greeting; your crew are becom-
ing mutinous, and brand you mad; officers and men
crowd round you, savagely demanding return. Move
not a hair's breadth. Command the craven spirits to
their duty. Bow them before the grandeur of your
courage, and the triumph of your faith :

" Hushing every muttered murmur,
Let your fortitude the firmer

Gird your soul with strength ;
While, no treason near her lurking,
Patience in her perfect working,
Shall be queen at length."

HIS LIFE AND ITS LESSONS. 331

Ha ! "What is it ? What says the watcher ? Land in
the distance ! No ; not yet — but there's a hopeful fra-
grance in the breeze ; the sounding-line gives shallower
and yet shallower water ; the tiny land-birds flutter
round, venturing on timid wing to give their joyous
welcome. Spread the canvas to the wind ; by and by
there shall be the surf-wave on the strand ; the summits
of the land of promise visible; the flag flying at the
harbor's mouth, and echoing from grateful hearts and
manly voices, the swelling spirit-hymn, " So he bringeth
us to our desired haven."

We are taught by the Prophet's history the evil of
undue disquietude about the aspect of the times. The
followers of Baal had been stung to madness by their
defeat on Carmel, and Jezebel, their patroness, mourn-
ing over her slaughtered priests, swore by her idol-gods
that she would have the Prophet's life for theirs. On
this being reported to Elijah, he seems to be paralyzed
with fear, all his former confidence in God appears to
be forgotten, and the remembrance of the mighty de-
liverances of the past fails to sustain him under the
pressure of this new trial. Such is poor human nature.
He before whom the tyrant Ahab had quailed — he
whose prayer had suspended the course of nature, and
sealed up the fountains of heaven ; he who, in the face
of all Israel, had confronted and conquered eight hun-
dred and fifty men — terrified at the threat of an angry
woman, flees in precipitation and in terror, and, hope-
less for the time of his own safety, and of the success of

332 THE PROPHET OF HOREB,

his endeavors for the good of Israel, wanders off into the
wilderness, and sighs forth his feelings in the peevish
and melancholy utterance : Let me die. " It is enough
— now, O Lord God, take away my life, for I am no
better than my fathers." This desertion of duty, failure
of faith, sudden cowardice, unwarranted despondency,
petulance, and murmuring, are characteristics of modern
no less than ancient days. There is one class of observ-
ers, indeed, who are not troubled with any disquietude ;
to whom all wears the tint of the rose-light, and who
are disposed to regard the apprehensions of their soberer
neighbors as dyspeptic symptoms, or as incipient hypo-
chondriacism. Whenever the age is mentioned, they go
off in an ecstasy. They are like the Malvern patients,
of whom Sir Lytton Bulwer tells, who, after having
made themselves extempore mummies in the " pack,"
and otherwise undergone their matutinal course of hy-
dropathy, are so intensely exhilarated, and have such
an exuberance of animal spirits, that they are obliged
to run a considerable distance for the sake of working
themselves off. Their volubility of praise is extraordi-
nary, and it is only when they are thoroughly out of
breath, that you have the chance to edge in a syllable.
They tell us that the age is " golden," auriferous in all
its developments, transcending all others in immediate
advantage and in auguries of future good. We are
pointed to the kindling love of freedom, to the quick-
ened onset of inquiry, to the stream of legislation broad-
ening as it flows, to the increase of hereditary mind, to

HIS LIFE AND ITS LESSONS. 333

the setting further and further back of the old land-
marks of improvement, and to the inclosure of whole
acres of intellectual and moral waste, thought formerly
not worth the tillage. We would not for one moment
be understood to undervalue these and other signs,
equally and yet more encouraging. On the other hand,
though no alarmists, we would not be insensible to the
fears of those who tell us that we are in danger ; that
our liberty, of which we boast ourselves, is strangely
like licentiousness ; that our intellectual eminence may
prove practical folly ; that our liberality verges on in-
difTerentism ; and that our chiefest dignity is our yet-
unhumbled pride, that §pQvr\\ia oapub^ which, in all its
varieties, and in all its conditions, is " enmity against
God." A very cursory glance at the state of things
around us will suffice to show that with the dawn of a
brighter day there are blent some gathering clouds.

Amid those who have named the Master's name,
there is much which calls for caution and for warning.
Political strife, fierce and absorbing, leading the mind
off from the realities of its own condition ; a current of
worldly conformity setting in strongly upon the churches
of the land ; the ostentation and publicity of religious
enterprises prompting to the neglect of meditation and
of secret prayer ; sectarian bitterness in its sad and
angry developments ; the multiform and lamentable
exhibitions of practical Antinomianism which abound
among us — all these have, in their measure, prevented
the fulfillment of the Church's mission in the world.

334 THE PROPHET OF HOREB,

If you look outside the pale of the churches, viewed
from a Christian stand-point, the aspect is somewhat
alarming. Crime does not diminish. The records of
our offices of police and of our courts of justice are
perfectly appalling. Intemperance, like a mighty gulf-
stream, drowns its thousands. The Sabbath is system-
atically desecrated, and profligacy yet exerts its power
to fascinate and to ruin souls. And then, deny it as
we will, there is the engrossing power of Mammon.
Covetousness — the sin of the heart, of the Church, of
the world — is found everywhere ; lurking in the guise
of frugality, in the poor man's dwelling; dancing in
the shape of gold-fields and Australia before the flat-
tered eye of youth ; shrined in the marts of the busy
world, receiving the incense and worship of the traders
in vanity; arrayed in purple, and faring sumptuously
every day, in the mansion of Dives ; twining itself
round the pillars of the sanctuary of God ; it is the
great world-emperor still, swaying an absolute author-
ity, with legions of subordinate vices to watch its nod,
and to perform its bidding.

Then, besides this iniquity of practical ungodliness,
there is also the iniquity of theoretical opinion. There
is Popery, that antiquated superstition, which is coming
forth in its decrepitude, rouging over its wrinkles, and
flaunting itself, as it used to do in its well-remembered
youth. There are the various ramifications of the
subtile spirit of Unbelief: Atheism, discarding its former
audacity of blasphemy, assuming now a modest garb

HIS LIFE AND ITS LESSONS.

335

and mendicant whine, asking our pity for its idiosyn-
crasy, bewailing its misfortune in not being able to
believe that there is a God; Nationalism, whether in
the transcendentalism of Hegel, or in the allegorizing
impiety of Strauss, or in the pantheistic philosophy of
Fichte, eating out the heart of the Gospel, into which
its vampire-fangs have fastened ; Latitudinarianism on
a sentimental journey in search of the religious instinct,
doling out its- equal and niggard praise to it wherever
it is found, in Fetichism, Thuggism, Mohammedanism, or
Christianity ; that species of active and high-sounding
skepticism, which, for want of a better name, we may
call a Credophobia, which selects the confessions and
catechisms as the objects of its especial hostility, and
which, knowing right well that if the banner is down,
the courage fails, and the army will be routed or slain,
" furious as a wounded bull, runs tearing at the creeds ;"
these, with all their off-shots and dependencies (for their
name is Legion) grouped under the generic style of Infi-
delity, have girt themselves for the combat, and are
asserting and endeavoring to establish their empire over
the intellects and consciences of men. And as this
spirit of Unbelief has many sympathies with the spirit
of Superstition, they have entered into unholy alliance
— "Herod and Pilate have been made friends to-
gether"— and hand joined in hand, they are arrayed
against the truth of God. Oh, rare John Bunyan!
Was he not among the prophets ? Listen to his descrip-
tion of the last army of Diabolus before the final

33(5 THE PKOPHET OF HOKEB,

triumph of Immanuel : " Ten thousand Doubtebs, and
fifteen thousand Bloodmen, and old Incredulity was
again made general of the army."

In this aspect of the age its tendencies are not always
upward, nor its prospects encouraging, and we can
understand the feeling which bids the Elis of our Israel
" sit by the wayside, watching, for their hearts tremble
for the ark of God." "We seem to be in the mysterious
twilight of which the prophet speaks, " The light shall
not be clear nor dark, but one day Jcnoum unto the Zord,
not day nor night." Ah ! here is our consolation. It
is " known unto the Lord ;" then our faith must not be
weakened by distrust, nor our labor interrupted by fear.
" It is known unto the Lord ;" and from the mount of
Horeb he tells us that in the secret places of the heritage
there are seven thousand that have not bowed the knee
to Baal. It is " known unto the Lord ;" and while we
pity the Prophet in the wilderness asking for a solitary
death, death under a cloud, death in judgment, death in
sorrow, he draws aside the veil, and shows us heaven
preparing to do him honor, the celestial escort making
ready to attend him, the horses being harnessed into the
chariot of fire.

Sirs, if there be this opposition, be it ours to " con-
tend " the more " earnestly for the faith once delivered
to the saints." Many are persuading us to give up and
abandon our creeds. We ought rather to hold them
with a firmer grasp, and infuse into them a holier life.
We can imagine how the infidel would accost an intelli-

HIS LIFE AND ITS LESSONS.

337

gent and hearty believer. "Be independent; don't
continue any longer in leading strings, taking your faith
from the ipse dixit of another ; use your senses, which
are the only means of knowledge ; cast your confessions
and rituals away; a strong man needs no crutches."
And we can imagine the reply. " Brother, the simile
is not a happy one — my creed is not a crutch — it is a
highway thrown up by former travellers to the land
that is afar off. f Other men have labored,' and of my
own free will I i enter into their labor.' If thou art dis-
posed to clear the path with thy own hatchet, with
lurking serpents underneath and knotted branches over-
head, God speed thee, my brother, for thy work is of
the roughest, and while thou art resting — fatigued and
' considering ' — thou mayest die before thou hast come
upon the truth. I am grateful to the modern Macada-
mizers who have toiled for the coming time. Commend
me to the King's highway. I am not bound in it with
fetters of iron. I can climb the hill for the sake of a
wider landscape. I can cross the stile, that I may slake
my thirst at the old moss-covered well in the field. I
can saunter down the woodland glade, and gather the
wild heart's-ease that peeps from among the tangled
fern ; but I go back to the good old path where the pil-
grim's tracks are visible, and, like the shining light, l it
grows brighter and brighter unto the perfect day.' "
Sirs, this is not the time for us to be done with creeds.
They are,, in the various churches, their individual em-
bodiments of what they believe to be truth, and their

15

338 THE PROPHET OF HOREE

individual protests against what they deem to be error.
" Give up our theology !" says Mr. James of Birming-
ham; "then farewell to our piety. Give up our
theology ! then dissolve our churches ; for our churches
are founded upon truth. Give up our theology ! then
next vote our Bibles to be myths. And this is clearly
the aim of many, the destruction of all these together ;
our piety, our churches, our Bibles." This testimony is
true. There cannot be an attack upon the one without
damage and mischief to the other.

" Just as in old mythology,

What time the woodman slew
Each poet-worshipped forest-tree —
He killed its Dryad too."

So as the assault upon these expressions of Christianity
is successful, the spiritual presence enshrined in them
will languish and die. " Hold fast," then, " the form
of sound words." Amid the war of sentiment and the
jangling of false philosophy, though the sophist may
denounce, and though the fool may laugh, let your
high resolve go forth to the moral universe ; " I am
determined to know nothing among men save Christ
and him crucified."

There is another matter to which, if you would suc-
cessfully join in resistance to the works of evil, you must
give earnest heed, and that is the desirableness, I had
almost said the necessity — I will say it, for it is my
solemn conviction, and why should it not be manfully

HIS LIFE AND ITS LESSONS. 339

out-spoken ? — the necessity of public dedication to the
service of your Master — Christ. You will readily admit
that confession is requisite for the completeness of
discipleship ; and you cannot have forgotten how the
Apostle has linked it to faith. " Confess with thy mouth,
and believe with thine heart." To such confession, in
the present day, at all events, church-fellowship is
necessary. You cannot adequately make it in social
intercoursej nor by a consistent example, nor even by a
decorous attendance with outer-court worshippers. There
must be public and solemn union with the Church of
Christ. The influence of this avowed adhesion ought
not to be forgotten. A solitary " witness " of obedience
or faith is lost, like an invisible atom in the air ; it is
the union of each particle, in itself insignificant, which
makes up the " cloud of witnesses " which the world
can see. Your own admirable Society exemplifies the
advantage of association in benevolent and Christian
enterprise, and the Churches of the land, maligned
as they have been by infidel slanderers, and imper-
fectly— very imperfectly — as they have borne witness
for God, have yet been the great breakwaters against
error and sin, the blest Elims to the desert wayfarer,
the tower of strength in the days of siege and strife.
Permit us to urge this matter upon you. Of course we
do not pretend to specify — that were treason against
the noble catholicity of this Society — though each of
your lecturers has the Church of his intelligent pre-
ference, and we are none of us ashamed of our own $

340 THE PROFHET OF HOREB,

but we do mean to say, that you ought to join your-
selves to that Church which appears to your prayerful
judgment to be most in accordance with the New Testa-
ment, there to render whatever you possess of talent,
and influence, and labor. This is my testimony, sin-
cerely and faithfully given ; and if, in its utterance, it
shall, by God's blessing, recall one wanderer to alle-
giance, or constrain one waverer to decision, it will not
have been spoken in vain.

Yet once more upon this head. There must be
deeper piety, more influential and transforming godli-
ness. An orthodox creed, valuable Church privileges —
what are these without personal devotedness ? They
must be faithful laborers — men of consecrated hearts —
who are to do the work of the Lord. Believe me, the
depth of apostolic piety, and the fervor of apostolic
prayer, are required for the exigencies of the present
and coming time. That Church of the future, which is
to absorb into itself the regenerated race, must be a
living and a holy Church. Scriptural principles must
be enunciated by us all, with John the Baptist's fear-
lessness, and with John the Evangelist's love. It is a
mistake to suppose that fidelity and affection are
unfriendly. The highest achievements in knowledge,
the most splendid revelations of God, are reserved in his
wisdom for the man of perfect love. Who but the
beloved disciple could worm out of the Master's heart
the foul betrayer's name ? Whose heart but his was
large enough to hold the Apocalypse, which was flung

HIS LIFE AND ITS LESSONS. 341

into it in the island of Patmos % There must be this
union of deepest faithfulness and deepest love to
fit us for the coming age ; and to get it, we must
just do as John did : we must lie upon the Master's
bosom until the smile of the Master has burned out
of our hearts all earthlier and coarser passion, and has
chastened the bravery of the hero by the meekness of
the child.

The great lesson which is taught us in the Prophet's
history, is that which was taught to him by the revelation
on Horeb, that the Word is God's chosen instrumentality
for the Church's progress ', and for the world's recovery.
There were other lessons, doubtless, for his personal
benefit. He had deserted its duty and was rebuked ;
he had become impatient and exasperated, and was
calmed down ; craven-hearted and unbelieving, he was
fortified by the display of God's power ; dispirited and
wishing angrily for death, he was consoled with
promise, and prepared for future usefulness and duty.
But the grand lesson of all was, that Jehovah, when he
works, works not with the turbulence and passion of a
man, but with the stillness and grandeur of a God.
" He was not in the whirlwind, nor m the earthquake,
nor in the fire, but in the still, small voice." And so it
is still. " The whirlwind " of battle, " the earthquake "
of political convulsion and change, " the fire " of the
loftiest intellect, or of the most burning eloquence, are
valueless to uplift and to regenerate the world. They
may be, they very often are, the forerunners of the

342 THE PROPHET OF HOREB,

moral triumph, but God's power is in his Gospel, God's
presence is in his Word. Here it is that we are at
issue, at deep and deadly issue, with the pseudo-philoso-
phers and benevolent " considerers " who profess to be
toiling in the same cause as ourselves. They discrown
Christ ; they ignore the influence of the Holy Spirit ;
they proclaim the perfectibility of their nature in itself;
they have superseded the Word as an instrument of
progress ; and, of their own masonry, are piling up a
tower, if haply it may reach unto heaven. This is the
great problem of the age. Do not let us deceive our-
selves. There are men, earnest, thoughtful, working,
clever men, intent upon the question. Statesmanship
has gathered up its political appliances ; civilization has
exhibited her humanizing art ; philanthropy has reared
educational, and mechanics', and all other sorts of insti-
tutes ; amiable dreamers of the Pantheistic school have
mapped out in cloud-land man's progress, from the
transcendental up to the divine ; communism has flung
over all the mantle of its apparent charity, in the folds
of which it has darkly hidden the dagger of its terrible
purpose — nay, every man, now-a-days, stands out a
ready-made and self-confident artificer, each having a
psalm, or a doctrine, or a theory, which is to recreate
society and stir the pulses of the world. And yet the
world is not regenerated, nor will it ever be, by such
visionary projects as these. Call up History. She will
bear impartial witness. She will tell you that, before
Christ came with his Evangel of purity and freedom,

HIS LIFE AND ITS LESSONS. 343

the finer the culture, the baser the character ; that the
untamed inhabitant of the old Hercynian Forest, and
the Scythian and Slavonic tribes, who lived north of the
Danube and the Rhine, destitute entirely of literary
and artistic skill, were, in morals, far superior to the
classic Greek and all-accomplished Roman. Call up
Experience ; she shall speak on the matter. You have
increased in knowledge ; have you, therefore, increased
in piety ? You have acquired a keener aesthetic suscep-
tibility ; have you gotten with it a keener relish for the
spiritually true? Your mind has been led out into
higher and yet higher education ; have you, by its nur-
ture, been brought nearer to God ? Experience throws
emphasis into the testimony of History, and both com-
bine to assure us that there may be a sad divorce
between Intellect and Piety, and that the training of
the mind is not necessarily inclusive of the culture and
discipline of the heart. Science may lead us to the
loftiest heights which her inductive philosophy has
scaled; art may suspend before us her beautiful crea-
tions ; nature may rouse a " fine turbulence " in heroic
souls ; the strength of the hills may nerve the patriot's
arm, as the Swiss felt the inspiration of their mountains
on the Mortgarten battle-field ; but they cannot, any or
all of them, instate a man in sovereignty over his
mastering corruptions, or invest a race with moral
purity and power. If the grand old demon, who has
the world so long in his thrall, is, by these means, ever
disturbed in his possession, it is only that he may

344 THE PROPHET OF HOREB,

wander into desert places, and then return fresher for
the exercise, and bringing seven of his kindred more
inveterate and cruel. JSTo ! if the world is to be re-
generated at all, it will be by the " still, small voice ;"
that clear and marvellous whisper, which is heard high
above the din of striving peoples, and the tumult of
sentiment and passion ; which runs along the whole line
of being, stretching its spiritual telegraph into every
heart, that it may link them all with God. All human
speculations have alloy about them ; that "Word is
perfect. All human speculations fail ; that "Word
abideth. The Jew hated it ; but it lived on, while the
veil was torn away from the shrine which Shekinah had
forsaken, and while Jerusalem itself was destroyed.
The Greek derided it, but it has seen his philosophy
effete, and his Acropolis in ruins. The Roman threw it
to the flames, but it rose from its ashes, and swooped
down upon the falling eagle. The reasoner cast it into
the furnace, which his own malignity had heated
" seven times hotter than its wont ;" but it came out
without the smell of fire. The Papist fastened serpents
around it to poison it, but it shook them off and felt no
harm. The infidel cast it overboard in a tempest of
sophistry and sarcasm, but it rode gallantly upon the
crest of the proud waters ; and it is living still, yet
heard in the loudest swelling of the storm ; it has been
speaking all the while ; it is speaking now. The world
gets higher at its every tone, and it shall ultimately
speak in power, until it has spoken this dismantled

HIS LIFE AND ITS LESSONS. 345

planet up again into the smiling brotherhood of worlds
which kept their first estate, and God, welcoming the
prodigal, shall look at it as he did in the beginning, and
pronounce it to be very good.

It is as they abide by his Word, and guard sacredly
this precious treasure, that nations stand or fall. The
empires of old, where are they? Their power is
dwarfed or gone. Their glory is only known by tradi-
tion. Their deeds are only chronicled in song. But,
amid surrounding ruin, the Ark of God blesses the
house of Obed-Edom. We dwell not now on our
national greatness. That is the orator's eulogy and the
poet's theme. We remember our religious advantages
— God recognized in our Senate, his name stamped on
our currency, his blessing invoked upon our Queen, our
Gospel ministry, our religious freedom, our unfettered
privilege, our precious Sabbath, our unsealed, entire,
wide-open Bible. "God hath not dealt with any nation
as he hath dealt with us," and for this same purpose our
possessions are extensive, and our privileges secure —
that we may maintain among ourselves, and diffuse
amid the peoples, the Gospel of the blessed God. Alas !
that our country has not been true to her responsibility,
nor lavish of her strength for God. It would be well
for us, and it is a startling alternative, if the curse of
Meroz were our only heritage of wrath — if our only
guilt were that we "came not up to the help of the
Lord against the mighty." But we have not merely

been indifferent' — we have been hostile. The cupidity

15*

346 THE PROPHET OF HOREB,

of our merchants, the profligacy of our soldiers and
sailors, the impiety of our travellers, have hindered the
work of the Lord. Our Government has patronized
paganism ; our soldiery have saluted an idol ; our
cannon have roared in homage to a senseless stone —
nay, we have even pandered to the prostitution of a
continent, and to the murder of thousands of her sons,
debauched and slain by the barbarities of their religion
— and, less conscientious than the priests of old, we
have flung into the national treasury the hire of that
adultery and blood. Oh ! if the righteous God were to
make inquisition for blood, upon the testimony of how
many slaughtered witnesses might he convict pampered
and lordly Britain ! There is need — strong need — for
our national humiliation and prayer. He who girt us
with power can dry up the sinews of our strength.
Let but his anger be kindled by our repeated infideli-
ties, and our country shall fall. More magnificent than
Babylon in the profusion of her opulence, she shall be
more sudden than Babylon in her ruin ; more renowned
than Carthage for her military triumphs, shall be more
desolate than Carthage in her mourning ; princelier
than Tyre in her commercial greatness, shall be more
signal than Tyre in her fall ; wider than Kome in her
extent of territorial dominion, shall be more prostrate
than Borne in her enslavement ; prouder than Greece
in her eminence of intellectual culture, shall be more
degraded than Greece in her darkening ; more exalted
than Capernaum in the fullness of her religious privi

HIS LIFE AND ITS LESSONS. 347

lege, shall be more appalling than Capernaum in the
deep damnations of her doom.

Young men, it is for you to redeem your country
from this terrible curse. " The holy seed shall be the
substance thereof." As you, and those like you, are
impure or holy, you may draw down the destruction,
or conduct it harmlessly away. You cannot live to
yourselves. Every word you utter makes its impres-
sion ; every deed you do is fraught with influences —
successive, concentric, imparted — which may be felt for
ages. This is a terrible power which you have, and it
clings to you ; you cannot shake it off. How will you
exert it ? "We place two characters before you. Here
is one — he is decided in his devotedness to God ; pains-
taking in his search for truth; strong in benevolent
purpose and holy endeavor ; wielding a blessed influ-
ence ; failing oft, but ceasing never ; ripening with the
lapse of years ; the spirit mounting upon the breath of
its parting prayer ; the last enemy destroyed ; his
memory green for ages ; and grateful thousands chisel-
ling on his tomb: "He, being- dead, yet speaketh."
There is another — he resists religious impressions ; out-
grows the necessity for prayer ; forgets the lessons of
his youth, and the admonitions of his godly home ; for-
sakes the sanctuary; sits in the seat of the scorner;
laughs at religion as a foolish dream ; influences many
for evil ; runs to excess of wickedness ; sends, in some
instances, his victims down before him ; is stricken with
premature old age ; has hopeless prospects, and a ter-

#48 THE PROPHET OF HOREB,

rible leatli-bed; rots from the remembrance of his
fellows; and angel-hands burning upon his gloomy
sepulchre the epitaph of his blasted life : " And that

MAN PERISHED NOT ALONE LN HIS INIQUITY."

Young men, which will you choose? I affection-
ately press this question. Oh, choose for God ! ■" Seek
first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and
all things " — science, art, poetry, friendship — " shall be
added unto you." I do unfeignedly rejoice that so
goodly a number of you have already decided.

I have only one fitness to address you — but it is one
which many of your lecturers cannot claim — and that
is, a fitness of sympathy. Your hopes are mine ; with
your joys, at their keenest, I can sympathize. I have
not forgotten the glad hours of opening morning, when
the zephyr has a balmier breath, and through the
richly-painted windows of the fancy, the sunlight
streams in upon the soul. I come to you as one of
yourselves. Take my counsel. " My heart's desire and
prayer for you is that you may be saved."

There is hope for the future. The world is moving
on. The great and common mind of Humanity has
caught the charm of hallowed Labor. "Worthy and toil-
worn laborers fall ever and anon in the march, and
their fellows weep their loss, and then, dashing away
the tears which had blinded them, they struggle and
labor on. There has been an upward spirit evoked,
which men will not willingly let die. Young in its

HIS LIFE AND ITS LESSONS. 349

love of the beautiful, young in its quenchless thirst after
the true, we see that buoyant presence :

" In hand it bears, 'mid snow and ice,
The banner with the strange device :
Excelsior !"

The one note of high music struck from the great harp
of the world's heart-strings is graven on that banner.
The student breathes it at his midnight lamp — the poet
groans it forth in those spasms of his soul, when he can-
not fling his heart's beauty upon language. Fair
fingers have wrought in secret at that banner. Many a
child of poverty has felt its motto in his soul, like the
last vestige of lingering divinity. The Christian longs
it when his faith, piercing the invisible, " desires a
better country, that is, an heavenly." Excelsior!
Excelsior ! Brothers, let us speed onward the youth
who holds that banner. Up, up, brave spirit !

" Climb the steep and starry road
To the Infinite's abode."

Up, up, brave spirit ! Spire of Alpine steep and frown-
ing brow, roaring blast and crashing flood, up ! Science
has many a glowing secret to reveal thee ! Faith has
many a Tabor-pleasure to inspire. Ha ! does the cloud
stop thy progress ? Pierce through it to the sacred
morning. Fear not to approach the divinity ; it is his
own longing which impels thee. Thou art speeding to

350 THE PROPHET OF HOREB, HIS LIFE AND ITS LESSuNS.

thy coronation, brave spirit ! Up, up, brave spirit !
till, as thou pantest on the crest of thy loftiest achieve-
ment, God's glory shall burst upon thy face, and God's
voice, blessing thee from his throne, in tones of approval
and of welcome, shall deliver thy guerdon : " I have
made thee a little lower than the angels, and crowned
thee with glory and honor !"

THE END.

Nov

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LAMB'S WORKS, Five Volumes

HAZLITT'S WORKS, Five Volumes

LEIGH HUNT'S WORKS, Four Volumes.

Pronounced the most valuable and handsome set of books ever intra
tfuced into the American market. Fut up in two elegant cases, bound ia
half calf antique, or half calf gilt. Price $2 25 per volume, or, per set,
$112 50.

We also have the same works, bound in neat cloth, for $1 25 per
volnme ; or sheep, library style for $1 50 per vol.

*A* Either or all of the above will be sent by mail, post-paid, or
reoeipt of price.

W H. Tiimok, Printer ami Stamotroer 48 & 4* Oentre St., «. Y.

38 JUrbg # facksou's publications.

BOOKS WEITTEN BY A. S. ROE.

There is no writer of the present day who excels this charming author
in the natural and home-like simplicity of his style, and the natural inte-
rest and truthfulness of his narrative. In thousands of families and Sab-
bath Schools his books are read and re-read with ever-increasing delight.
The young and old, the quiet and gay, are alike fascinated by his pages.
Rival editions of all his books have been published in England, edited by
the Rev. Dr. Taylor, where they have already reached the enormous sale
of 120,000 volumes — a sure indication that his pen is one whose "touch
of nature makes the whole world kin."

IV'E BEEN THINKING ; or, The Secret of Success. 12mo., clo., §1 00
TO LOVE AND TO BE LOVED ; or, Strive and Win. 12mo., clo., . 1 25
A LONG LOOK AHEAD ; or, The First Stroke and the Last. 12mo, clo., 1 25
THE STAR AND THE CLOUD ; or, A Daughter's Love. 12mo., clo., 1 25
TRUE TO THE LAST ; or, Alone, on a Wide, Wide Sea. 12mo., clo., 1 25
HOW COULD HE HELP IT 1 or* The Heart Triumphant. 12mo., clo., 1 25

From the London Critic.

" Mr. Roe is one of the most successful of American writers. He has
originality of thought, and natural powers of invention."

From the New York Christian Intelligencer.

" Mr. Roe evidently knows how to touch the heart-strings ; indeed, he
sweeps them with a master's hand. At one time we find it impossible to
restrain a gushing tear ; at another every risible nerve is in full exercise."

From tlie United States Magazine.

" Hogarth not more surely touches life with his wizard spell. It is
transfixed and permanent. ' A Long Look Ahead ' is the crystallization
of his genius, and, like Goldsmith's ' Vicar of Wakefield,' should be placed
upon the shelf to show what American views and manners reveal, just a?
that simple tale tells of what comes from English institutions. He is an
American truly and heartily : American in thought and feeling, American
in tone and language. His books will live as graphic pictures of the times
he delineates. Rather of the old school in Church and social privileges,
he is sufficiently universal to make his delineation national. There is
about him a complacency, a wholesome cheerfulness, a fertility of resource,
a hopefulness, a glow and persistency wholly Yankee."

%* The above will be sent by mail, post-paid, on receipt of pric«

GOOD AND POPULAR BOOKS,

PUBLISHED BY DERBY & JACKSON.

TEN YEARS OF PREACHER LIFE. By Rev. W. H. Milbubn. 12mo. $1 01

RIFLE, AXE AND SADDLEBAGS. " u " 12mo. 1 00

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THO UGHTS AND ESS A YS OF JOHN FORSTER. 12mo 1 0C

THE ESSA YS OF ELI A. By Charles Lamb. 12mo 1 00

JOHNSONS LIVES OF THE POETS. 2 vols. 12mo 2 50

THE SPECTA TOR. By Joseph Addison. 2 vols. 12mo 2 50

THE TA TTLER AND G UARDIAN. By Addison and Steele 8 00

WIRT'S LIFE OF PATRICK HENRY. 12mo 100

SIMMS' LIFE OF GENERAL MARION. 12mo 1 00

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LIFE AND CHOICE WORKS OF ISAA C WA TTS. 12mo 1 25

LA YARD'S POP ULAR DISCO VERIES A T NINE VEH. 12mo 1 00

FROST'S INDIAN BA TTLES AND CAPTIVITIES. 12mo 1 00

WORKS OF OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 4 vols. 12mo 5 00

WORKS OF CHARLES LAMB. 5 vols. 12mo « 25

BOSWELL'S LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 4 vols. 12mo 5 00

ROLLINS ANCIENT HISTORY. 2 vols. 8vo 4 00

PL UTARCH'S LIVES OF THE ANCIENTS. 8vo 2 (HI

Either of the above sent by mail, post-paid, on receipt of Price. A
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